


The Hogwarts Delacour

by Fantasticlavendercrystals



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-04-16 19:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14171757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantasticlavendercrystals/pseuds/Fantasticlavendercrystals
Summary: A Dramione Veela Story. Hermione was raised by the Delacours. Growing up amongst part-veelas and purebloods makes Hermione easily the brightest and most popular girl at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Draco Malfoy is intrigued by Hermione and is determined to get her to know his name. But what will happen when secrets are revealed?





	1. Meeting Miss Delacour

**Author's Note:**

> This work of fanfiction is also available on fanfiction.net.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own the story 'The Hogwarts Delacour' but not Harry Potter or any other works referenced. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!

_**The Hogwarts Delacour** _

**_Summary_** : A Dramione Veela Story. Hermione was raised by the Delacours. Growing up amongst part-veelas and purebloods makes Hermione easily the brightest and most popular girl at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Draco Malfoy is intrigued by Hermione and is determined to get her to know his name. But what will happen when secrets are revealed?

** _Chapter One – Meeting Miss Delacour_ **

* * *

 

 

It was on The Hogwarts Express that Draco Malfoy met Hermione Delacour. Draco had been sitting with Crabbe and Crabbe’s friend Goyle on the train waiting for the sweet lady to arrive with their favourite treats when she had appeared at their compartment. Draco had spent almost the entire train journey listening to them rant on and on about which house they could possibly be in. Even though he had made friends with them, as soon as he had sat and listened to them for more than an hour Draco soon realised that they were complete blockheads. He even started to wish Pansy Parkinson would show up and amuse him for a little while. Of course, she didn’t, but Hermione Delacour did.

At first Draco Malfoy didn’t care or know why she was there. At first, he didn’t even bother looking up when she started speaking.

‘Excuse me, have you seen a toad anywhere? A boy named Neville has lost one.’ She said in a matter-of-fact voice. Draco first thought it sounded irritating, like a felt-tip pen scratching angrily across paper, especially with her funny accent. He looked up at her and was surprised at what he saw.

Standing at four-feet-ten in her black school robes, was an enchanting girl of his age. The girl possessed a petite height and frame. She had fair-coloured skin and beautiful ringlets of blonde curls that framed her oval face and caressed her belated chin. Her rosy cheeks still had the remnants of the puppy-fat that would diminish in years to come and reveal even more of her lovely cheekbones. She had honey-brown eyes that just drew him in with a warmth in them that he had previously only experienced when holding a hot cup of hot cocoa: he found he couldn’t look away. In a word, she was gorgeous.

Draco shook his head and told her ‘no he hadn’t’ but when she turned to leave he added: ‘wait, what’s your name?’

The enchanting girl stopped to reply: ‘I’m Hermione. Hermione Mireille Delacour. And you are?’

‘Draco Lucius Malfoy.’ Draco said, sensing for the first time in his life that his name was not the most important name in the room for a change.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Draco Lucius.’ Hermione replied.

‘It’s just “Draco”. Where are you from?’

‘France. My sister Fleur goes to Beauxbatons as a matter of fact, but I my parents allowed me to study here as I think Hogwarts is far superior, wouldn’t you agree?’ Hermione said, grinning at Draco.

‘Er, yeah, I guess. I suppose that’s why I’ve never heard of your family then.’ Draco said.

‘Probably. Although I’ve heard of yours. It’s pretty obvious who you are, when you know that is, you can tell you’re a Malfoy by your silvery eyes and the blonde hair.’ Hermione stated, another matter-of-fact statement.

Draco didn’t say anything: he’d heard people comment on how much he looked like his father a million times already. Then again, he’d never been told how his eyes were “silvery” rather than grey.

‘Ooohhh silvery eyes, eh Draco? Twinkly little fairy, aren’t you?’

‘Shut it, Goyle.’ Draco snapped without taking his eyes off Hermione.

‘I best continue my search for Neville’s toad. I suppose I’ll see you around, Draco.’ Hermione says.

‘Will I…Will I see you at the sorting ceremony? Will you stand next to me?’ Draco asked. He couldn’t believe a beautiful girl could make him so insecure: before this Draco Malfoy had always found girls kind of icky. But not her. Hermione Delacour was the complete and absolute opposite of icky.

‘I’d like that. See you there.’ Hermione agreed and without another word, disappeared off down the train, leaving Draco daydreaming about how many freckles he had spotted on her cheeks, as he ignored Crabbe and Goyle’s jokes about how taken he seemed with Hermione Delacour.

Draco attempted to find her as soon as he left the train, not caring that he’d left his friends to seek her out. He felt his heart drop at the fact he couldn’t see her anyway at the station, nor on the boats that would take them to the castle. It was only once he’d arrived at The Great Hall that she spotted him and pranced over to him, giving him a quick hug – Draco’s heart beat like African drums from the momentary embrace that lasted less than five seconds. ‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’ Hermione said, her eyes flicking excitedly to the night sky of the hall before returning to Draco’s gaze. ‘I guess.’ Draco stated. Why was she so interested in all this stuff? And Draco briefly wondered if she were a mudblood with a shiver. _No. She can’t be. She’s too…pretty to be a mudblood. It must be because she’s French._

‘What house are you hoping for?’ Hermione asked.

‘Slytherin.’ Draco answered.

‘Really? I’ve hardly met anyone who wants to be in Slytherin. Oh no, I don’t mean it’s a bad house: in fact, I think it’s good to be cunning sometimes. I think Slytherin gets a bad reputation for being you-know-who’s house. That doesn’t mean it deserves its reputation by any means. I would love to be in Gryffindor, but I suppose Ravenclaw would be okay as well. I don’t think I’m cunning enough to be in Slytherin.’ Hermione rambled, and Draco found himself surprised at how much he took in every word. No one had captured his attention like this before.

An old witch who said her name was McGonagall had begun calling out names of students whilst they had been talking and suddenly shouted ‘Draco!’ to be called forward to the sorting hat. Feeling very nervous for the first time, but in no way letting it show in his step, little Draco Malfoy walked forward to the sorting hat.

_Ah, raised to be ambitious I see_ , the hat told him before shouting ‘Slytherin!’ almost the moment it had been placed on top of Draco’s head. Draco walked over to the Slytherin table, glancing at Hermione Delacour as he moved, he felt his young heart flutter as she smiled at him and clapped with the Slytherins as he sat down. Draco didn’t bother looking at who he sat next to as he watched Hermione as she waited anxiously to be sorted.

Two minutes later the moment of truth arrived.

‘Hmm…this was a tough decision, but it had better be Ravenclaw!’ The hat announced to the Great Hall. Draco watched as Hermione’s face looked puzzled for a second before smiling again as she waltzed over to the Ravenclaw table.

Draco sighed in relief that she had not been placed in Gryffindor: he disappointment would surely have had no end if she had been a stupid lion rather than the elegant bird she was bound to become. Still he was sad she wasn’t sat beside him at his table.

Draco also found himself clenching his fist so hard that his palms started to bleed from his fingernails as he witnessed Terry Boot chat to Hermione Delacour and was even bold enough to put an arm around her shoulder.


	2. A Charmed Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Hermione's third year gets more complicated.

**_ Chapter Two – A Charmed Life _ **

_‘O, I am fortune’s fool!’_

_\- William Shakespeare_

 

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Delacour’s brief friendship faded in Hermione’s mind until it was nothing but a fleeting, faded, fuzzy memory. This might not have been the case if he hadn’t acted so cruel to other students after he had been sorted into Slytherin. The day after the Sorting, she had watched him punch Terry Boot in the face as she looked on from behind the corner. Hermione had rushed out from behind her hiding place to rescue Terry from being hurt even more.

          ‘Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it! How _dare_ you hit a fellow student?’ Hermione demanded as she hurried to Terry’s side.

          ‘Nothing to say, Malfoy?’ Harry Potter had said as he walked down the hall where the assault had been taking place. Draco didn’t say anything and didn’t meet Hermione’s gaze. ‘No. Bullies like you never have anything to say.’ Harry went on before turning to Hermione. ‘He’s not worth your time.’

          Hermione looked at Harry, then Terry, and then back to Malfoy, before nodding her head as she saw no remorse or feeling of any kind on the blonde’s face.

          Draco, with a perfect poker face, felt his heart break as he watched Hermione Delacour walk away from him with Potter and Boot.

****

**_[Hermione Delacour’s Third Year at Hogwarts, 1994]_ **

         

Since then Hermione Delacour and Draco Malfoy had hardly spoken two words to each other. He never bullied her as he did others but never seemed to spare her a glance. If it wasn’t for Harry and Ron’s constant complaining about his torments towards them then Hermione was sure she would forget Draco Malfoy even existed.

          She didn’t even need to mourn the loss of his friendship. From the moment she had sat down on the Ravenclaw’s table she had instantly started to make friends. All the boys loved her, although she didn’t notice that this was the case until third year when she realised that she didn’t even have a single close female friend besides her younger sister, Gabrielle. Hermione sometimes _almost wished_ she could have a similarly loving relationship with Fleur Delacour, her older sister, but from the moment Hermione was born the two girls have been sibling rivals. Hermione wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but she was ever so jealous of Fleur’s beauty, while it was true that the boys at Hogwarts flocked to her she knew that was only the case because they had never set their eyes on Fleur. 

Still it didn’t make sense to her why in all her youngest memories their parents always seemed to dote on her far more than her elder sister. It made sense to Hermione as whilst Fleur was the beauty of the family, Hermione was the brightest. Having shown her magical abilities as early as one years old, Hermione’s Father, Monsieur Gabriel Delacour, was always boasting about Hermione’s high intellect at family gatherings and events. Despite this, every tutor and extended family member always looked upon Fleur as the crown-jewel of the Delacour family. It had upset and angered nine-year-old Hermione so much that she begged and pleaded with both her parents that she be allowed to study at Hogwarts instead of her sister’s school (so that she wouldn’t be living in Fleur’s shadow all her life). So, while it may look like Hermione Delacour had a charmed life to someone studying at Hogwarts, her home life was anything but pleasant for Hermione.   

          Hermione was constantly reminded by Gabrielle to be proud of herself for gaining the attentions and affections of men, as according to Gabrielle it meant that ‘she was smart enough and beautiful enough to be noticed.’ Hermione took her younger sister’s words to heart and thus made such to follow the instructions of their Mother, Madame Apolline, to always take her special beautifying potion once a day on a morning.

          Swallowing the too-sweet purple-coloured potion was precisely what thirteen-year-old Hermione Delacour is doing at the present moment in time. She sits with Harry Potter to her right and Theodore (Theo) Nott to her left on the Ravenclaw table, and five other teenage boys are sitting close to her as well: their names are Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Ronald (Ron) Weasley, Justin-Finch-Fletchley, and Cedric Diggory.

          ‘Why do you need to take that stuff every morning, Mione? It smells like chemical sugar.’ Terry asks as Hermione pinches her nose and swallows the potion from its bottle.

          ‘Because Ma Mère says I have to.’ Hermione replies and quinces at the taste of her potion.

          ‘Hermione you of all people don’t need a beautifying potion.’ Harry tells her sincerely. Hermione smiles. While Terry is the most inquisitive of her ‘’garçons’’ ( as was what Hermione liked to call her closest friends), Harry is the sweetest.

          ‘Thank you, Harry.’ Hermione says and Harry blushes pink.

          ‘Seriously Mione. You really don’t need it.’ Ron agrees as he stuffs his mouth with a left-over croissant from breakfast, which has been over only fifteen minutes at this point and Ron had just finished a Full-English-Breakfast. Of course, Ron was the piggy of the group, as Hermione half-jokes about often.

          ‘Ma Mère says that if I don’t take it my skin will flake away.’ Hermione says, trembling at the thought. Seeing her needing comfort, gives Theo the permission he needs to put his arm around her, and he half-pulls her into a warm embrace. This action creates jealous stares amongst her other garçons and this causes Hermione to pull away from Theo a minute after she feels better and stops trembling. ‘Is everything alright, Harry?’

          ‘Yes, I mean, no. It’s the day Buckbeak is to be…you know.’ Harry says with a choked voice. Hermione throws her arms around him in sympathy.

          Oh Harry, I’m so sorry. I wish there was something we could do.’ Hermione whispers to him. She thought about what she could do to make him feel better. ‘We’re going to Hagrid’s. This afternoon. Although I’m afraid we’re going to have to go alone, as this is a touchy subject for both Hagrid and Harry.’ Hermione tells the other garçons who were staring at Harry curiously.

‘Can I come too, Mione?’ Ron asked, being the only lad there that didn’t take the hint.

          Hermione sighed. She would have rather he wouldn’t. ‘You’re Harry’s best friend so you can come if he wants you to?’ Hermione says as she brushes off a falling tear from Harry’s cheek. Harry smiles at her before giving a small smile to Ron.

          ‘Yes, you can come.’ Harry says to his ginger-haired friend. Ron smiles back, and the trio then made their way to Hagrid’s as planned.

 

On their way to Hagrid’s hut, the trio had the misfortune of running into Malfoy and his friends, who Hermione heard mocking Buckbeak’s impending death.

          ‘You! You foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach!’ Hermione yelled at Malfoy as she charged towards him and held her wand up at his throat. Malfoy soon ceased his laughter and looked at her with evident fear in his _apologetic_ grey eyes?

          Hermione wanted to smirk at the sight of his quivering pink lip but refrained as she maintained her angry expression. Malfoy surprisingly did not attempt to move away or defend himself, which Hermione found rather odd, although Malfoy didn’t meet her eyes after that one split second: thus, she really had no clue about what could possibly be going on inside his head.

          _‘_ It astonishes me, Malfoy, how much of a charmed life you lead, and yet nothing about you is remotely charming.’ Hermione tells the trembling boy in front of her. Malfoy suddenly became very still as he glowed back at her.

          ‘I could say the same about you. I told my father about you and he told me all about the Delacour’s Veela ancestry. Tell me _Miss_ Delacour, do you act like such a filthy, lowly, _harlot_ because you know you cannot get pregnant with your tainted blood?’ Draco asked with a coolness that wasn’t present moments ago.

          ‘How **dare** you make such ** _vile_** and **inaccurate** assumptions about me and my family?’ Hermione screamed in his face. ‘You need to get those silver _spoons_ out of your arse, you low-life rat!’ Hermione screamed at him once more before angling and pointing her wand towards his butt. Hermione then whispered: _‘silver spoons,_ _Eructo.’_   

          Hermione grinned like a Cheshire Cat as she watched as Malfoy’s face distorted into a painfully uncomfortable position, with his eyes going crossed, and his mouth gaping open like he was a Venus fly-trap, and her grin only widened once she observed the silver teaspoons falling out from Draco’s robes and trouser legs. Hermione was rather stunned the spell had worked, for it was one of her own invention and she’d never even read of a thirteen-year-old’s witch’s own spell working correctly on the first try.  

          Ron and even Crabbe and Goyle laughed, up until the latter two boys realised just how much pain their friend really was in.

          ‘Draco are you okay?’ Crabbe said, but Draco couldn’t even so much as nod.

          ‘Hermione, no!’ Harry said from behind her. ‘He’s not worth that. Malfoy isn’t worth you being expelled over.’

          Hermione’s face turned blank at her best friend’s words and lowered her wand after saying ‘ _Reverso Eructo’_ (which was the counter-course for the curse that she had just cast).

Malfoy face recovered from its tortured appearance and went to smirk to his classmates, when suddenly Hermione had a change of heart and decided to punch Malfoy in the nose before the smirk grew up the sides of his face. Her eyes smiled with satisfaction as she saw Malfoy fall back against the stone and held his hands protectively over his nose. _Serves him right._

          ‘That felt good.’ Hermione said to her present garçons as they walked away. They smiled with her.

         

It was hard for the trio to see Hagrid in such a state of upset. Perhaps even harder for Hermione than Buckbeak’s death. She couldn’t remember seeing the Half-Giant that sad in all her time knowing him, nor could she remember Hagrid being as good as a skip-stone thrower as he was that day. _It must be the only way he’s keeping it somewhat together,_ she thought.

          When she heard the executor throw down his axe she wrapped herself in Harry’s arms and cried. _It wasn’t fair._ Harry held her for a moment before they left.

 

Yet now, Hermione can’t even recall her thoughts of the previous hours as she, Ron and Harry are stood near The Weeping Willow, witnessing their DADA Professor Remus Lupin transform into a terrifying Werewolf right before their very eyes.

          ‘Professor? Professor Lupin?’ Hermione says as she cautiously moves towards the creature.

The werewolf turns and looks at her body before suddenly snapping its head up to meet her fearful gaze.

          The Wolf let out a howl towards the full-moon and Hermione stumbles back to the safety of being beside Harry and Ron as their Potions Master suddenly appears in front of them. ‘There you are, Potter.’ Snape says and stands and shields them from the werewolf. This only seems to make the Wolf angrier as it doesn’t shift its gaze from Hermione’s.

          The werewolf quickly approaches them and knocks Snape, Harry and Ron onto their backsides as easily as a witch knocks over her pot of ink. Hermione screams as it happens and then something miraculous happens.     

          The werewolf stops snarling, stops howling, stops clawing, stops every aggressive action it had done previously. Then, the werewolf sits and to Hermione’s utter astonishment, licks her hand like a puppy-dog would after being scolded by his owner.

          Snape looks momentarily shocked too but then quickly turns to Potter and Weasley. ‘You two, go. Run. Be quiet.’ Snape commands and after a minute Hermione heard their quick but quiet footsteps move away from her and the beast.

          Snape stares then go from the werewolf to Hermione then back to the werewolf again. He kicks a long stick of wood towards the teenage witch and she looks down at it and then back at the Potions Master, before picking it up. To her surprise, the werewolf starts jumping about on its hind leg like a loyal dog excited to see his owner. Hermione instinctively takes two steps back and the werewolf takes two steps forward.

          Knowing its her only shot of getting out of this crazy situation, Hermione lifts the heavy stick up and throws it as far as she could into the air and away from her person. The werewolf instantly starts running after the stick and Hermione and Snape take the opportunity to run as fast as they possibly could run.

          They managed to make it about fifty feet into the forest before the werewolf jumps in front of Hermione from out of nowhere. Hermione jumps, startled. But there was yet to be a reason to be afraid. The werewolf sits and drops the stick from his mouth at her feet.

          Hermione picks the stick up again and flings it into the depths of the forest and once again, the werewolf chases after it. Hermione and Snape start to run again; Hermione sorely wishes she hadn’t chose to wear her navy heels and cardigan with a short, dusty pink, skater dress that day.

          It goes on like this at least ten times: _Throw Stick, Werewolf chases stick, Hermione and Snape run as if they were cheetahs, Werewolf surprises them with stick, Hermione throws stick again. Repeat until the young witch and Potions Master reach the Hogwarts castle._

          As soon as they were near the castle, the werewolf once more catches up to them and Hermione goes to throw the stick again. Suddenly, however, she doesn’t need to. Sirius Black, in his black-dog form, appears and guards her and growls at the Werewolf. The Werewolf then fights the black-dog and Hermione and Snape use this distraction as a means of reaching the safety of the castle in one piece.

After the insanity and stress of dealing with a Werewolf once, Hermione felt far more capable of doing it again with the time-turner and found the whole rescue- mission-via-meddling-with-time-fiasco a lot easier than it would have been if the Wolf hadn’t taken such a passive turn with her and Sirius hadn’t ended up being one of the those that she and Harry had needed to save. They only had to save Buckbeak and had done so successfully. Sirius had escaped on his own without seemingly much problem, despite Snape.

          All in all, Hermione is feeling extremely proud of herself for her acts of heroism as she prances through the bookshelves of the Hogwarts empty library with a large Arithmancy book in her arms. She is currently making her way to the other end of the library in order to return the now-finished book when she crashes into a body which had been moving in the opposite direction. If Hermione hadn’t been so lost in her daydreams about what on earth Sirius was doing right now, then it wouldn’t have happened.

          Hermione tumbled backwards and crashed into the side of a bookshelf behind her and then fell like a stack of textbooks to the floor.

         

          Hermione starts to apologise until she realises who exactly she crashed into. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention and I – Malfoy?’

          ‘Would you watch where you’re goin –’ Draco cut himself off as his stormy eyes met her honey eyes and he inhaled air through his pointy nose.

          He was on his knees in the time it takes for lightning to flash.

 

Draco smelt the most potent fragrance he had ever smelt, and it was coming from Hermione Delacour, the girl that had walked straight into him and (as a result) had collapsed onto the floor. It was like nothing else he had ever come cross. The scent radiating from Miss Delacour was like nothing he could have imagined or have wildly dream – it overshadowed all his other scenes so much that within seconds he couldn’t so much as think, see, hear, or touch anything that wasn’t her smell.

          On his knees, he inhaled sharply to intake as much of that euphoric fragrance as he possibly could, closing his eyes shut, so he could fully appreciate the serene experience. From this distance the smell was like it had been derived from the finest sugars, the freshest lavender, and the rarest of cinnamon.

          Draco knew immediately that he simply _had to_ get closer to that scent.

          Keeping his eyes closed, he reached in the direction where the scent was at its most potent, which turned out to be on Hermione Delacour’s elbow. He knelt even closer and breathed it in, allowing its effects to wash over him completely.

          The scent made him feel tranquillity. He could and never would recall a moment in his life that made him feel as relaxed and contented as this scent. It was like someone had cast the most sophisticated relaxation charm ever yet to be invented. Not only that, it also made him feel strong. Like suddenly he was the most powerful sorcerer in the entire universe and he could defeat both Dumbledore and Voldermort wandlessly with a slight flicking of his wrist. He felt so happy he could die right then and there and know he would never ever be happier. The Mirror of Erised would, from this moment, on show him that of himself inhaling this girl’s exquisite and wonderous scent for the rest of his life and beyond.

          ‘What in Rowena’s name are you doing, Malfoy? You silver-spooned arse.’ Hermione Delacour said as she tried to push him away by shoving his chest. It didn’t work. Draco was physically stronger than her.

          He opened his eyes to stare down at her and Hermione gasped. He just stared at her in amazement.

          All of a sudden, Hermione Delacour did not look like the same girl to him anymore. Her snow-white skin looked darker as if she had suddenly wore foundation-makeup that was a shade or two too tanned for skin, which now looked olive-toned; her nose had become far less up-turned; her cheekbones weren’t as high; her neck was shorter; and her lovely blonde ringleted hair (which had become her trademark over her schoolyears) was then a bush of fizzy light brown curls; the only thing Draco found conventionally attractive about that birds nest of hair was that it shimmered with a red hue from the rays of sunlight pouring in from a nearby window. He blinked, and just as fast as the image of the brunette had appeared, the ethereal and blonde Hermione Delacour returned, her pretty masses of ringlets once again tied back in a French braid and the other features of her fair complexion returning with her.     

          ‘What’s in your perfume? I’ve never smelt anything like it!’ Draco demanded. Hermione Delacour was one of those girls that was always gifted with pleasant, expensive, perfumes but never one of this potency.

          ‘Your eyes are glowing, like, I mean, they look like huge orbs of molten silver, Malfoy!’ Hermione Delacour was saying at the same time as Draco was speaking. ‘And, I’m not wearing any perfume at all today, not that that has to do with anything.’ She said after he wouldn’t stop staring at her with a mixture of curiosity and a bunch of other emotions, which Miss Delacour couldn’t seem to name.

          ‘You’re not wearing any perfume?’ Draco uttered with huge scepticism.

          ‘Absolutely none.’

          ‘At all?’ Draco pressed her.

          ‘At all. Honestly Malfoy, your eyes look like they are turning into melting metal and you’re going on and on about whether or not I’m wearing a little bit of smellie? What the Hell is wrong with you?’ Hermione Delacour said, still trying to push him off. 

          This time he complied with her desire and dropped her arm and stood up with just the same speed he had knelt down with. Without another word, Draco Malfoy stormed away from Hermione Delacour.

          Draco exited the library and, as soon as the doors had slammed behind him, all his senses returned to their normal capacity and his thought processes were slowly becoming clearer. But the smell was still there. He sniffed and sniffed (thankful that no one was around to see him doing so) until he came across the source of the remaining scent.

          It was his right hand.

          Draco swiftly pressed his right palm to his nostrils with only a brief glance of inspection. It smelled so sweet, like sugar. Draco affirmed in his own mind that sugar must be the main component to the divine scent. There was a red substance covering his sweet palm. Draco almost utterly unconsciously let the tip of his tongue taste the red substance. It tasted to him how a child might describe the taste of soda pop, and yet it wasn’t until his eyes fluttered down to gaze at it that he realised what it was.

          _Blood._ Hermione Delacour’s blood.

 

Draco then began to feel blood _literally_ begin to boil in his veins, and helplessly, as he keeled over into a ball on the floor, he screamed in absolute agony.

_‘Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will…There is no remedy for it.’_

_– Patrick Süskind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment below and share your thoughts about this story. It is the only cur for the occasional writers block, you know. I am uploading all the chapters that are available on FF.Net on here. Thanks to all my readers who are supporting this story, through kudos or otherwise :) 
> 
> Authors notes: 
> 
> Some French translations: 
> 
> ‘Garçons’ is French for “boys”.  
> ‘Ma Mère’ is French for “my mother”. Hermione’s mother in this story is French, so it made sense.  
> Apologises to any French-speaking readers reading this fiction I have gotten any of it wrong. It is completely unintended. I love the sound of French, but I happen to be learning Spanish at the moment. 
> 
> The quote at the end of the chapter:
> 
> There likely won’t be a quote at the end of every chapter as I only insert them if I feel they are necessary or enrich the story in some way (at least in my opinion), but I will leave you all to decide your own feelings on the quotes. The quote from Patrick Süskind is taken from his novel Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, which, you guessed it, I do not own. Although Perfume is on my really long reading list at the moment.  
> Other notes:  
> ‘smellie’ is a slang word for “perfume” where I’m from in the UK.  
> ‘silver spoons, Eructo’ is a curse that I made up for Hermione. It causes silver teaspoons to come out of a person’s backside like they have diarrhoea only with silver spoons. I know it’s gross, right? But hey, Draco kinda was being an arse. It is an extra little thing in there I put in for weird comic effect.  
> This chapter’s title is, in part, a reference to Diana Wynne-Jones’ great children’s novel of the same name A Charmed Life.


	3. In the Summertime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer of 1994 and what happens at that time.

**_ Chapter Three – In the Summertime  _ **

_‘And I love to live so pleasantly, live this life of luxury, lazing on a sunny afternoon, in the summertime.’_

_\- The Kinks (From the song: ‘Sunny Afternoon’)_

* * *

Hermione’s dozy, happy, summer holidays at her family’s chateau in Southern France, helped her almost completely forget about the disturbing and bizarre occurrence in the Hogwarts library with the Malfoy brat. She had been grateful he seemed to just disappear into thin air after he had creepily ogled her that day.

          Now as she runs around the garden of the chateau with her little sister Gabrielle, chasing her with a bucket of ice cold water, the incident is the last thing on her mind.

          The only thing that on her mind now is how long the game of water-tag was going to last as she tried desperately to get close enough to Gabrielle to chuck the bucket over the eight-year-old’s silvery-blonde hair.

          The little minx is so fast. Their mother’s orders that the child jogs for at least an hour around the garden every morning before breakfast were certainly paying off: Hermione is panting already although it has only been five minutes since they had started playing.

          Gabrielle runs around in circles, taunting her sister, until she rushed for their mother’s broom and launches into the air.

          ‘Bri! Bri!’ Hermione shouts after her flying sister. ‘Gabrielle! You know the rules, if you start flying while we’re playing then we aren’t going to play together anymore.’

          ‘No!’ Gabrielle cried: Immediately Gabrielle lowers the broom, so it was hovering above the ground before she set her feet firmly on the grass. She leapt off the broomstick and ran up to Hermione, wrapping her little arms around her big sister’s waist. ‘Pup-please Mione. Don’t be mad at me. I was just messing around. I still want to play with you.’ Gabrielle said as her dark blue eyes began to swell with tears.

          ‘Ssh. It’s alright. I wasn’t completely serious. I just don’t want you to fly into the juniper tree again and break your legs like last time.’ Hermione soothed as she stroked the girl’s straight hair. _Not to mention I hate flying of all kinds,_ Hermione thinks to herself.

          ‘But-but Mione that was last year! I am so much better at flying now. It was one time. It happened one time.’ Gabrielle objected.

          ‘You’re right, but we also both know that after that one time, Mère has forbidden you from riding a broom until you are old enough to go to Beauxbatons full-time.’ Hermione replied. The education system works differently in France compared to Britain. In France, children from the age of seven are required to attend Beauxbatons Academy of Magic part-time (from nine in the morning until midday) until they reach the age of eleven and that’s when they begin their intensive full-time study. Right now, it was the summer holidays for Beauxbatons too which meant that Gabrielle had a whole morning to kill and thus had more time to scheme ways of stealing their parents brooms. This time, Hermione realised that Gabrielle had managed to place an invisibility charm on her mother’s broomstick, but Merlin knows how she accomplished that. 

          Hermione let Gabrielle so easily this time for breaking their playing rules because she too had done her fair share of rule breaking that morning: during their weekly piano lessons, Hermione had managed to change Fleur’s sheet music into a blank sheet of paper stating ‘ _je m'ennuie tellement’_ over a thousand times on both sides and all pages. Her father (who also doubled as their piano tutor) had been so furious that he had banned Fleur from going into the garden that afternoon until she had ‘‘freshened up her responsibility for music’’. Hermione didn’t feel guilty, of course. She had purely and simply grown exhausted of hearing her father go on and on for practically all morning about Fleur’s ‘natural talent’ for piano and how her singing voice also matched her ‘exquisite beauty’. He never even so much as mentioned her or Gabrielle: the latter of whom had been repeatedly named as being more ‘‘gifted than Mozart when he was her age’’ for her extraordinary piano skills by professional players.

          Hermione knows that if she told Gabrielle her little secret that the child would be annoyed with her as Gabrielle hadn’t to be put in the middle of her older sisters, loving both equally (although Hermione liked to believe that she was her favourite).

          ‘Alright. You can go flying after dinner when Mère goes for her nap. I won’t tell but _please_ be very careful, Bri.’ Hermione says, before wiping away her sister’s sulky pout by reaching tickle the girl under her underarms. Gabrielle, being the most ticklish person Hermione had ever met (Harry being a close second), fell onto the soft lily beds and wriggled in sheer delight before shrieking: ‘Mercy! Mercy! Stop! Stop!’

          Hermione did stop as she respected her sister’s consent.

          ‘I didn’t really mean _stop.’_ Gabrielle pouted again and Hermione giggled with her before Gabrielle lunged at her playfully and they both toppled down the little hill they had previously been standing on.

          Gabrielle fell onto of her sister before rising to a crawling position over Hermione and began to pay her back by tickling the older girl’s ribchage. Hermione, in turn, began to laugh a happy belly-laugh until Gabrielle decided to tickle her neck instead.

          ‘Bri, no! Stop it! Stop it, right now!’ Hermione says through her laughs. Gabrielle stops and looks down at her sister curiously. ‘You know how I hate being tickled on my neck.’ Hermione says accusingly.

          ‘Sorry, sister. I forgot. You’ve been in England for so long.’ Gabrielle sincerely apologised. Hermione smiled before craning her head up so she could kiss Gabrielle soft cheek. Gabrielle smiled back at her and kissed Hermione’s cheek back before climbing off of her. Gabrielle then walked around Hermione’s body and lied down on the grass above Hermione’s head: the child then proceeded to move up the grass so that her head and Hermione’s head touched as they laid there.

          ‘I’m missed you so, so much, Mione.’ Gabrielle whispers.

          ‘I missed you ever so much too, Bri.’ Hermione whispers back. Her hand lifts above her head and meets Gabrielle’s own outstretched fingers and they link them together.

          Together they then lie on the grass without saying a word, letting the heat from the summertime skies warm their faces, as the magic sprinklers surrounding them spray speckles of water droplets onto their sun-tanning legs.

 

* * *

 

It was dark when Hermione awakens as she feels the spit of rain on her face. Her eyes flutter open and sits as she takes in her surroundings. She is still on the grass, in the garden and the sun has already fully set. In the distance the lights are still on inside the chateau. Hermione turns her head back to her soaked legs and feet and she stretches as she goes to make her way back inside. When suddenly she stops as she spots a pair of yellow eyes peering at her in the shadows from behind the mass of rose bushes.

          Hermione screamed. She can’t help it. She is absolutely terrified, except…there is absolutely nothing to be terrified off as the yellow eyes vanish as quickly as they appear.

          ‘Hermione Mireille! My sweet girl, whatever is the matter?’ Her father, Gabriel Delacour, asked. Hermione turned her head slightly to see him now running towards her anxiously.

          ‘Not-Nothing Papa. I just – I just thought I saw something.’ Hermione stammers as her father pulls her in close to his body. He smooths her twin ponytails at the back of her head as he listens to her with concern.

          ‘Nobody’s out here, except you, me, and Gabrielle.’ Her father replied. Hermione stepped out of his hug to see Gabrielle stood behind her Papa’s legs looking on at her. _It must be rather late,_ Hermione assumed as Gabrielle was dressed for bed already, wearing a light pink nightdress and large ribbons to curl her hair like, if a muggle were to describe her appearance right then, Cindy Loo Who from Dr. Seuss’  _The Grinch Who Stole Christmas._

          ‘We had to wake her as _ta Mère_ was gravely concerned that ‘‘you had been kidnapped, or even worse, that you had run away’’.’ Her father told her with a chuckle.

          ‘Why on earth would I run away ?’ Hermione asked, chuckling with her father.

          ‘That’s what we said.’ Her father agreed, his eyes shifting to Gabrielle. ‘I best escort you ladies inside before we catch all our deaths.’

          Hermione nodded as the rain began to belt down on them : the three of them hurried back to their château and readied themselves for bed.

 

* * *

 

The following morning Hermione, Gabrielle, and Fleur went with their mother to Lake Geneva. It was due to Hermione’s apologetic nature that Fleur was allowed to go with her sisters as their father was reluctant to let her when she had apparently ‘butchered Beethoven’s _Moonlight Sonata’_ yesterday afternoon. Even Fleur didn’t deserve two days of her father’s strict teaching.  

          ‘…Doesn’t the lake look beautiful today?’ Mère is saying as Hermione admires the brilliantly blue waters. Hermione was about to agree when she turned her head to see her father rushing towards them. She relaxes on the hill until she notices a strange brown sack floating down the river.

          ‘What – what is that?’ Hermione asked, mainly to herself. Instantly she got up and rushed towards the river. As soon as she got close enough, Hermione heard strange _meowing?_

          Without a second thought, Hermione dived head first into the river and swam after the brown sack.

          ‘Hermione? What are you doing?’ Shouted Gabrielle, she herself running towards the river.

          ‘Gabrielle! Come back here!’ Their mother shouted.

          Hermione ignored her sister’s and her mother’s voices as she swam like an olympian to get to the sack. She reached it within a minute and swam straight back to dry land.

          Immediately after resurfacing from the river, Hermione untied the string on the sack to reveal two adorable, black-and-white kittens.

          “ _Thank you for rescusing us”_ a young boy’s voice said in Hermione’s head.

          _What on earth?_

 _Thank you for rescusing us, my name is_ _Pantalaimon_ _Silvertongue, Pan for short. I am the kitten with all white paws and a white bib. You saved me from dying at the hands of my father. Me and my mother died trying to take the kittens you see before you to the shelter, but we were hit by a drunk muggle driver. Before my mother’s heart stopped she managed to cast a powerful enchantment so I could live on as a cat when my body died. My soul now lives on in this kitten’s body who I share with the kitten’s soul. Please rescuer, can you give us a home?_ The young boy’s voice replied. 

          ‘Come quickly! We must return to the chateau immediately!’ Papa suddenly called.

          ‘Papa? What on earth are you doing here?’ Fleur asked, her features paling as she thinks he might be here to demand she continue her lessons.

          ‘We have _cruically_ important guests arriving in less than an hour, _ma cherie.’_ Papa replied with panting breath. ‘Come quickly, and I will apparate us all to our home.’

          ‘Papa, wait! Before we go can we please take these poor kittens home with us?’ Hermione asks, her eyes confused but pleading with her father’s better nature at the same time.

          ‘Yes, yes. Just hurry!’ Gabriel agreed.

 

* * *

 

The witches, seeing Gabriel’s best dress robes and distressed brow, do as he commanded and are back at the chateau in no time at all. Colette Tourselle, Angelica Polastron, and Juliana de Chevreuse, the Delacour daughters serving ladies, are waiting in a upper hall for their mistresses arrivals, dressed in their finest duck-egg-blue French maid dresses (without the aprons, of course). Other senior servants (all of whom were female) are also wearing fresh and crisp uniforms only they did have aprons as a part of their systematically black attire.

          ‘Leave those kittens out here for the other servants to take care of.’ Hermione’s mother instructs her. Hermione reluctantly does as she is told.  

          The serving ladies bow towards the Delacour family and proceed to escort their respective mistresses into their dressing rooms, as Madam Antoinette (as the children and servants were meant to call her) escort their mother towards her dressing room.

          Hermione gasps as she eyed the emerald green corset that lying expectantly at the bottom of her glass wardrobe that Angelica had just opened.

          _‘Pardon Mademoiselle., Maître Gabriel_ insisted.’ Angelica apologised, sensing Hermione’s contempt towards the corset, her French trembling as she spoke.

          ‘It is quite alright, Angelica.’ Hermione said as she turned to her vanity mirror to her left.

 After Angelica had assisted Hermione with removing her comfortable summer dress and replaced it with a fresh pair of panties and a single black petticoat; Hermione finds herself clinging onto the back of the shaking white,wooden, chair when Angelica begins lacing each individual green ribbon of her corset at the back, feeding each one underneath the other.

‘My sister writes and tells me this dress is the lastest fashion in Verona.’ Angelica says to Hermione as she finishes the lacing with a tidy little bow. Angelica fetched the lightweight, silk, emerald green dress _Maître_ _Gabriel_ expected his daughter to adorn and tried to fit the sleeveless garment over her middle. _This dress is tiny!_ Hermione thinks. 

Unfortunately for Hermione, Angelica is required to redo her corsert and tighten the ribbons _even more_. ‘Stupid Angelica.’ Angelica murmurs to herself. ‘I’m so sorry Mlle. Hermione, I tried to tighten the corset half-way through rather than being patient and tightening it at the very end.’ Angelica says. Hermione scowled but told her servant ‘it’s alright’: although, because of Angelica’s servant status [and Gabriel’s slight predijudice towards muggleborns], Hermione could never class the twenty-year-old half-Italian lady as her friend, at the best of times wished she could. Angelica was smooth in manner and quiet in words – Hermione’s ideal companion during a stressful time.

‘You’ll look just as beautiful as an Italian lady in this dress, Mlle. .’ Angelica whispers in Hermione’s ear as she finishes creating the lovely  herringbone pattern with the crossed ribbons and perfects the bow at the end of the corset.  

‘Well…Italian ladies…must have learnt…how to be… _beautiful_ without… _breathing._ ’ Hermione replies breathlessly. Her raven-haired servant giggled prettily as she placed the emerald dress at Hermione’s feet for her to step into it. Hermione complies and the dress goes over her figure effortlessly.

Hermione gaped at herself in the vanity mirror as she stared at the teeny, tiny waist-line the v-necked, empire-waist, emerald green dress had created.

‘You look stunning.’ Angelica whispers quietly to her mistress.

 _‘Je vous…remercie.’_ Hermione thanks as she watched through the mirror as Angelica casts a hair-charm so the back of Hermione’s hair was in a French braid while the rest of her curls were looped through the braid, except for the front sections which ewere criss-crossed through the back of the head where the braid begins the length of the braid is then pulled into a soft bun at the base of her head, resulting in a perfectly romantic upswept updo.

‘Angelica…?’

‘Oui, mistress?’

‘Who are…the guests …that…I am… to entertain?’

‘O, I do not know such secrets, Mlle. I can only suggest that whoever they are that they are a wealthy family – from what the _Maître_ told Madam _Ant_ and she told us,the rest of the servants – that your Papa hopes to impress very much.’  ‘‘Madam Ant’’ was the snide nickname the servants gave to Apolline Delacour’s serving lady and caretaker of the chateau. Although it was presumed this was due to Madam Antoinette’s high position within the household, Hermione also guessed it was because of her rumoured cruelty to lower-level servants. 

Angelica is positioning Hermione’s diamond choker and earrings when there’s a impatient rapping at the dressing-room door. _‘entrer!_ ’ Hermione calls to the knocker, who is revealed to be Gabriel Alexandre Delacour. Angelica speedily helps Hermione into her crystal impossibly high-heeled shoes.

 ‘What is taking so long?’

‘ _Pardonnez-nous,_ _Maître_ _._ I failed to -’ ‘I – I mean _Angelica_ …failed … to stop… my tantrum for having… to wear this…too tight corset, Papa.’ Hermione panted, protecting her serving lady from the wrath of Gabriel Delacour later [Angelica already has marks on her left cheek and above her right eye because of him] if she were to confess to any mistakes at all. Hermione saw Angelica’s dark-chocolate eyes thank her in the mirror. Angelica then bows before leaving as he curtly nods at her to leave the room.  ‘Hermione, away _Mon trésor_ ** _,_** we must we awaiting our guests.’ Gabriel said. He placed his hands on her shoulders and spun to meet his eyes. He lilted her chin. ‘Angel, it is oh-so-imperative that we impress these people, my success in selling my _terreux bonheur_ potions in _Grande Bretagne,_ heavily depends upon it.’ Her Papa says, running his free hand through his thinning hair.  ‘I understand, Papa.’ Hermione answers as he takes her hands and leads to the staircase where her mother and sisters are waiting already. Hermione notes the sheer elegance and contrast as both her mother and Fleur are adorning long black dresses: her elder sister is wearing a simple stream-lined backless dress with complimenting green emerald encrusted opera gloves, while her mother is wearing a satin sweep gown with black opera gloves. Fleur and her mother both have their silvery-blonde hair in elegant buns on their heads. Hermione and Gabrielle aren’t wearing any gloves at all (but have the most recently manicured nude-coloured nails); Gabrielle wears a sleeveless, silver bodice, (to which Hermione’s cringes in complete disgust at the sight) dress with countless petticoats which forms a bell-shape and has a wide emerald-coloured sash around her midsection.    There’s a single tap on the front entrance to the chateau and the family butler Giles and doorman open the double doors.  From left to right: Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy stand just outside the entrance.   _Malfoy._  Hermione’s stomach churns as her father takes her in his left hand and Fleur in his right and leads them down the impressive imperial staircase to greet their ‘’ _guests’’._ Hermione has to swallow her undigested food back down her throat as she watches Malfoy watching her approach them with an “ _angelic”_ smile. _‘c'est un plaisir d'être invité, Delacours.’_ Draco Malfoy purrs in a beautiful French tongue with those scarily glowing molten-silver eyes of his tracking hers. _If looks were an unforgivable curse,_ Hermione bitterly thinks. 

* * *

 

_“O serpent heart hid with a flowering face!’_

_\- William Shakespeare_


	4. Defying Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The visit.

**_ Chapter Four – Defying Stars  _ ** **__ ** _‘_

_I defy you, stars!’_

__\- William Shakespeare_ _

* * *

 

_‘c'est un plaisir d'être invité, Delacours.’_

_‘_ _Merci beaucoup_ _,_ Young Master Malfoy. It is an honour to have you and your family here.’ Gabriel Delacour flatters, saying the lines mostly in English. Hermione lets out a snort that only her father could hear : he pinched her raised hand. Gabriel then stared at his three daughters to curtsey at their guests which all did so dutifully, although Hermione’s knees barely buckled.   

         ‘The pleasure’s all mine.’ Says Draco in French.                    

          ‘We are delighted to be here.’ Says Narcissa.          

           ‘I’m sure it is.’ Says Lucius.           ‘It’s a rather _unexpected_ visit, I must say.’ Says Apolline. Apolline Delacour stares at Draco Malfoy in a warning manner.        

           ‘Yet an altogether wonderful one, right Apolline?’ The patriarch of the Delacour says quickly in perfect English, careful not to completely murder the positive atmosphere.     

          ‘Of course, _Mon poussin_.’ Apolline Delacour replies to her husband in less fluent English. ‘I think your guests would much appreciate, however, if you didn’t just stand here looking at them but also invited them into one of the lounge rooms, don’t you think?’           

         ‘A _merveilleux_ suggestion, _Mon amour._ _’_ Gabriel agreed before turning to the servants. ‘Angelica, make us something Italian for lunch. Madam Antionette, you and the others will prepare the second-floor dining room for our use, _S'il vous plait_ _._ ’ He then gestured the group to follow him through the chateau to one of the lounges, though Hermione noticed that they walked past the lounge room which featured a large muggle television.         

         ‘No house-elves, Monsieur Delacour?’ Lucius inquired as they ascended the imperial stairs.           

          ‘No, Monsieur Malfoy. I am not a fan of house-elves. I much prefer the servitude of witches to magical creatures.’ Apolline says instead of her husband.          

          ‘Oh, is that so, Madam? I myself find house-elves to be far more obedient than any witch, with the _rare exception.’_  Lucius added the final part under his breath, but Hermione still caught it and had to press her giggle when she thought of Dobby.           

           ‘Oh, but Lucius, darling, I can quite see the advantage of having reliable witches’ hands prepare food without grubby elfish hands sullying it.’ Narcissa replied, thoughtfully.           

          ‘Quite so, my dear. Though these servant witches are…?’                     ‘ _Muggleborns,_ Oui.’ Both Apolline and Hermione replied together.           

          ‘Ah, so I see.’ Lucius says and sneers at a maid-servant moving past them with fresh bedding. ‘One could see how that might be a good job for them. Servant work may show them their correct place.’

          The maid stops her footsteps and twists her brunette head to glower at the elder Malfoy. Hermione recognises her as Agathe, a brown-haired-brown-eyed and scarred faced, rebellious, servant who refuses to quit even when she’s had every incentive to do so.  Gabriel grew so tired of what he described as her “outbursts” that he ordered her to do nothing more than change the bed clothes. It was a known fact that Agathe only stayed at the _chateau_ to spite her so-called _“Maître”._            _‘Porc saphirsang.’_ Agathe snarled before turning on her heel and matching past the patriarch Malfoy and shoving past his shoulder on the way. Malfoy senior looked at the behind of the maid with a puzzled gaze before his eyes became amused instead.           

         ‘Excuse that maid, Monsieu - _Mr_ Malfoy. She’s the only one I’ve ‘truggled to whip into the corect temperarment.’ Gabriel said as he opened the doors to the traditional Delacour lounge room.                    

          ‘Hmm, well then, perhaps later I can assist you in “whipping her into shape”?’ Lucius Malfoy grinned as he lounged back on a plush armchair like a spoiled King.         

          ‘That would be most appreciated, Sir.’ Gabriel responded, earning him a death-glare from his wife, who had known the maid Agathe since her mother had employed her long ago when Apolline was a young child. ‘Fleur, Hermione, Gabrielle, _mes anges_ _,_ why don’t you be the dears you are and perform that wonderful little number, _Histoire d'amour_ , we’ve worked on throughout this summer?’ Gabriel not so much as suggested as told his daughters.          

           ‘Oui, Papa.’ The daughters replied and stood and walked towards the musical instruments at the far end of the lounge room.  Gabrielle sat at the grand piano while Hermione and Fleur stand at either side of the grand piano and Hermione waves her wand so that the violins start to introduce them before Gabrielle plays the piano and her two sisters begin to sing like sirens.           

            Hermione felt uncomfortable as she tried to match Fleur’s beautifully high notes as she noticed that the young Malfoy had yet to take his silver eyes off her since their visit had begun. It is like staring into an abyss when you looked at them – _it’s that eerily intense._            

             ‘Bravo, Mademoiselles. Hermione Delacour, you were the softest and sweetest singer I have ever seen!’ Announced an impressed Lucius Malfoy. Although he was the awful, spitting-image of his son, Hermione blushed in reply and curtseyed almost to the floor this time. The rest of the small audience clapped in applause and demanded an encore (which ended up in the Delacour daughters performing six different songs before lunch).           

             The three daughters had just sung the final note of their final song when Colette (Fleur’s serving lady) tapped softly on the doors to the lounge room before announcing that ‘lunch is now served.’  The Delacours and their guests make their way down to the second-floor dining room as planned. A multitude of servants are stood upright around the foam-white walls of the dining room awaiting any order or command their guests might or might not make.           

             ‘I have to admire the conformity of your servants, Monsieur Delacour. I am most impressed.’ Lucius Malfoy says as everyone takes their seats around the table.          

          ‘ _Merci_ , Mr Malfoy. And feel free to call moi, Gabriel, Lucius.’                   

           ‘Mr Malfoy is fine.’ Murmurs Lucius as he lifts the silver cover off his plate. _Must be disappointed it’s not made of platinum,_ Hermione thinks on the other side of the table. Hermione feels especially bitter than she, of all witches, has been seated opposite Mr Draco Malfoy and prays Angelica has not cooked her _famous_ Spaghetti Bolognese.          

           Thankfully for Hermione Angelica out did herself by making a delicious Tandoori duck breast with a variety of salad.           

          ‘So, Lucius.’ Gabriel says in good English, having not heard his murmur, after cutting the duck with his silverware. ‘Now that we ‘ave all broken thee ice, how about ‘e discuss the matter of ‘mporting my famed _terreux bonheur_ to England – I mean, Great Britain?’          

          ‘Ah yes, I was wondering how soon you would bring _that_ up. It is not really my department, but I suppose…if this generous hospitality continues as it is…that I could potentially put in a good word for you to the Minister, or even breath down the necks of the necessary departments, if you like?’ Lucius mused, thoughtfully but directly.           

          ‘Indeed. I would like that, very, very, very much Mr Malfoy, Very much, indeed. Thank you ever so much Mr Malfoy. You and your lovely family are always welcome to my home and my hospitality.’ Gabriel Delacour says quickly. All three Malfoys smirk and two other Delacour’s splutter their white wines out of their mouths.           

          ‘Although, of course…I would require your amount of influence over the French Ministry [of Magic], if you understand my meaning?’           ‘We all understand you’re meaning, Malfoy…you want to have your influence maléfique spread all over France.’ Hermione hissed, standing up from her sit.           

      ‘Hermione, _sit down!_ ’ Gabriel cried. ‘My sincerest apologises Mr Lucius, ma daughter she’s very ‘ormonal during this time of the month, if you know my meanin’. The y-youth of thee Fr-Fr-French chil’ren today, as much as I regret to say, is far more impul-sive than I ‘ould like.’ Gabriel stuttered. If he wasn’t at the head of the table then everyone was certain Gabriel Delacour would be on his hands and knees kissing Lucius Malfoy’s boots right now. Hermione abstained and instead flees the dining room into the hall.            ‘Mlle Hermione, what on earth is the matter?’ Angelica asks as she waits outside the dining room door.          

     ‘Oh Angelica, Papa’s guests are awfully terrible.’ Hermione cries, feeling the frustrated tears blur her vision.           

    ‘I’m so sorry to hear that, Mademoiselle.’ Angelica tells her mistress honestly. Hermione does an expected action and throws her arms for the first time around her serving lady.           

     ‘There, there. It is alright, Mademoiselle.’ Angelica tried to soothe, unsure of what to do in this powerless situation.             

      ‘Indeed, _en effet, tout va bien, Mademoiselle._ _’_ Draco Malfoy coolly mimicked as he stood just outside the dining room doors. ‘What isn’t _fine_ is that you insulted my father, accused him of being evil when that is not the case.’ He says.         

_Speak for yourself, Malfoy._

     ‘What are you doing out here? You should finish your meal.’ Hermione says.         

     ‘I am looking for the lavatory.’ Draco Malfoy clipped and with that walks past her.           

‘Malfoy, the nearest bathroom is in the opposite direction.’ Hermione says with a projected voice. Malfoy doesn’t turn around and says nothing.   

* * *

 

Veela genes awakening and activating at once in your body is comparable to having every limb, muscle and bone in your body blown off, sewed meticulously back on, only to have them sawed off again, while still at the highest-level consciousness. This is what Draco Lucius Malfoy had been experiencing on that fateful day after tasting Hermione Mireille Delacour’s sweet blood.  It was even a thousand times more excruciating than that for Draco –  as he later imagined that he was withering around like he was possessed and having the demon exorcised out of him – for Draco had only tasted Hermione Delacour’s blood second handed as it was not fresh from one of her pretty greenish-blue veins.  In fact, Draco actually didn’t so much as flinch on the floor as his pain was too intense for him to move at all. The Veela genes were changing his physiology so fast, and at the same time, so slowly that it was three days before Draco had turned into the first male Veela in a century.  During those three days, his heart released cells that had been used during his creation inside his mother’s womb, back into his bloodstream and they transformed themselves into Veela-gene-carrying-cells and carried those genes all over Draco’s poor, helpless, body.  Each part hurt individually, but the pain was so intense that his whole body, heart and brain, may well have been hurting all at once. Draco’s heart grew hotter and hotter as it pumped each cell around his body, until it burned like the fires of Hell itself.  No pain Draco was to feel before or after was more painful than _this_.  He had squeezed his eyelids tightly shut in an attempt to block out at least some of the pain. To no avail. He still didn’t, and perhaps couldn’t, open his eyes until it was all over and his Veela genes had successfully joined together and created a new male Veela.  

         In the initial minutes or hours (Draco couldn’t tell the difference) of this transformation, Draco had heard a voice as clearly as if it had been booming like a sudden thunder. He didn’t recognise until much later that it had been Blaise Zabini. He remembered that it had said the name ‘Pomfrey’. Although his lips and voice were seemingly no longer connected to his brain at the time, Draco managed to gasp the name ‘Snape’ in reply. Zabini had done as Draco wished and took him to their Head of House.  Snape later told Draco that his first instinct had been to fetch Lucius to attend to his only son, Snape had reluctantly complied with Draco’s again gasping wish to see his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, instead.  

        Narcissa had come to her son’s bedside close to the quickness of lightning bolts. She had explained of the distant Veela descendants that had secretly been a part of both the Rosier and the Black families, both of which she and Draco descended. Narcissa was worried, not for her son’s life, but for his life with whoever his Mate was. Snape swore on his life that he would speak of Draco’s Veela transformation to no one. Narcissa had then taken herself and Draco to a private, little-known, abandoned Black residence in Scotland, not far away from Hogwarts itself. There Narcissa attended to Malfoy for the remainder of her son’s burningly painful transformation.

 

* * *

 

 When Draco stood in the Delacour family chateau, he had once thought that the Veela transformation had been worth it, as he locked eyes with Hermione’s as she sang her beautiful songs with her sisters. Yes, she was still a little rude before that, but her attitude and manner towards him and his family was far better than their few previous encounters since the Sorting in first year. Draco had watched her sing with his new and improved Veela vision and she looked nothing short of perfection.  Her cheeks were flushed with the colour of the deepest rose in full bloom. Her honey-hued eyes locked onto his with a sweet, almost curious, anxiousness within their depths. Her lips moved in a sensual fashion: the same way her body moved mere inches as she swayed with the siren song she sang.           

            It took every ounce of control he had ever possessed not to march over to that piano, swoop her down and mark her as his own, his Mate, his beautiful Miss Hermione Mireille Delacour.           He didn’t. And he ended up being angry with her, despite his love and lust for the teenage witch, he ended up being angry with her due to her callousness towards the father he had looked up to all his life. _No mere girl, no matter how ethereal or special_ , _was going to change_ how he _felt towards his father._          

            Draco had lied to her as easily as muggle parents lie to their muggle children about Santa Claus. He wasn’t going to the lavatory: he was going to her father’s personal potion stores. Draco hunted carefully and stealthily through the shelves of potion until he found what he needed. A potion labelled in an elegant hand, _‘Veela Engourdissement’_ or a potion what was known, in layman’s terms, for producing an effect that numbed a mortal man’s attraction to a female Veela. Draco hoped it would accomplish the opposite too.

           He held the tiny bottle between his index finger and thumb before deciding to down it in one short gulp to test his theory. He suddenly felt drowsy but that subsided after a minute or two. He figured it had worked and proceeded to put a grand total of 365 bottles of the potion (from the infinite collection of that potion) into his robe pockets. There was more than one reason he had picked the sapphire-blue robes he had that day, knowing where he was going.            Draco then quietly tip-toed out of the discreet closet-like room into the adjoining small lounge room. Only to discover it wasn’t as empty as it had previously been. For behind the large fish tank that had been placed against the camouflaged cream door leading into Gabriel Delacour’s personal stores, was Hermione Delacour herself.

           Although shocked, Draco instinctively tested his theory and found that while he inhaled he could still smell that potent fragrance of Hermione’s blood; it was nowhere nearly as strong as it had been about twenty minutes ago. Hermione’s face was peering out at him amongst the exotic fish, seaweed and rocks, that the fish tank held inside its volumes of salt water.

                    Upon noticing him, Hermione Delacour suddenly fled the room and ran out of his sight. ‘Hermione, wait, please.’ Draco called after her as he chased.   Hermione instantly ran to the sanctuary of her room, for the look on Malfoy junior’s face had frightened _her_ into hiding. With no breath between her lungs from running and her corset, Hermione falls back on her bedroom door and it shuts with a slam.            After a moment she stands back up and walks over to her mirror, using it to find the clasp of her necklace and pulls it off her neck. She removes some of the magic invisible hairpins so that some of her curls caress her face and her hair feels less tight. Then she attempts the impossible and tries to undo her corset.

           ‘You’re only creating more knots in that bow attempting to undo it like that, Princess.’ Draco Malfoy’s voice breaks the silence of her sanctuary like violence. Although unlike violence, it’s more like a caress than a punch with words. Hermione glares into his molten-silver eyes. ‘Would you care for my assistance, your Golden Highness?’           

Hermione was about to demand why and how he was here but thinks of a much better statement. ‘I’m afraid an Englishman of your lowly, second-rate, intellect would undoubtedly struggle to achieve such a complex task of undoing a simple bow, _oh Slytherin Prince.’_ Hermione drawls, smirking at his falling expression that was soon replaced with rage.          

           ‘Allow me to show you how much my _second-rate_ intellect can _achieve,_ Princess.’ Draco Malfoy snarls in reply. He slams the crystal slippers, which had fallen from her running feet on the stars leading to her bedroom, onto the unforgiving dresser near him. He then marches like a solider on a mission over to Hermione who trembles as he roughly pushes her hands away from her corset’s ribbons.  Draco Malfoy makes fast work of undoing the bow and even faster work of her ribbons holding her corset together. 

         ‘ _Stop’_ Hermione can only mouth as he pulls the corset apart from her spine, though only her bare back (and nothing more) is revealed by the action. He never stops looking into her eyes through her floor length mirror as he worked and now as he stares back at her with those glowing eyes of his, he still does not so much as blink.  In an act of defiance, Draco Malfoy allows his soft, moisturised hands roam over her spine until they meet at the small of her back. Hermione unwillingly shivers a little at the cool, velvety touch. She sees his eyes continue to roam all over her body but what distresses her is how they often they return to her v-line cleavage.  ‘Please.’ Hermione whispers. ‘Sto…’ words fail her as she witnesses Draco Malfoy’s head fall forwards and then felt a pleasurable warm, oozy, sensation as Malfoy’s closed lips brush over the spot between her bare neck and shoulder.

       ‘ _Ave atque vale, Aureum Celsitudinem.’_ Draco says. _Doesn’t that translate in Latin to something like “hail and farewell” and “golden highness”?_ Hermione ponders but Draco Malfoy vanishes like an illusion so seamlessly and spontaneously that Hermione Delacour wonders if she’s imagined everything. _‘_

        'Q _uindi ti stai nascondendo qui.’_  Angelica says in Italian, as she often did when she was worried about something.

           ‘Oui.’ Hermione says, not bothering to insult the Italian language by attempting to poorly speak it. ‘Please help me get out of this horrid dress.’  Hermione Delacour returns to the guests wearing a frilly white, high-necked, poet-blouse, and knee-length blue skirt (not unlike her sisters’ Beauxbatons uniform skirts) with a pair of matching kitten-heels. Hermione’s feet move like they are floating like a ballerina down the imperial staircase.  ‘I’m sorry I’m late coming to dinner.’ Hermione _apologises_ , lying through her smile as she spent far longer than necessary getting re-dressed. ‘It was almost impossible to change out of that silly dress.’  Gabriel Delacour and Draco Malfoy both stared at her. ‘Oh, you are a minx, Hermione.’ Gabriel abruptly half-laughed as he took hold of her hand.

           Dinner passed without much further ado, and Hermione was grateful when the Malfoy’s announced their departure.

          ‘We’ll be sure to come again soon, though, won’t we Draco?’ 

            ‘Indeed, Mother.’ Draco replies and then looks inside his robes and pulls out a gorgeously enchanted bouquet of colour-changing roses and hands them with a silver-wrapped gift. Hermione’s already faltering smile was dropping by the second as she unwrapped the unwanted present. Her eyes narrowed at the title:

**_ A Comprehensive Introduction to the Mating of Veela _ ** **__ ** **_ Written by _ ** ** an Anonymous Veela ** **__ ** **__ **

_Was this some kind of twisted joke?_  

* * *

 

 Draco looked at his Mate’s narrowing eyes with irritation. _Is this seriously the Mate I’ve been saddled with?_ He thought with pained frustration before reading Hermione’s face and knowing for a fact that every thought in her mind was debating on handing back his generous gifts. _Then I defy you stars, I will not bow down to a fool’s instincts._

* * *

 

_‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts’_

_-English Proverb_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes:  
> The final line of Draco's perspective narration is not a direct Shakespeare quote rather I added the last part of that quote Shakespeare's writing.  
> French translations:  
> Merci beaucoup – Thank you very much  
> A merveilleux suggestion, Mon amour – A marvellous suggestion, my love  
> S'il vous plait – Please  
> Porc saphirsang. – "Porc" means pig in French, but "saphirsang" roughly translates to "blue blood" and is the French term for "Pureblood" in this story.  
> Mes anges – my angels  
> Histoire d'amour – Love story  
> En effet, tout va bien, Mademoiselle. - indeed, everything is fine, miss  
> My sincere apologises to any French Speakers if any translations are wrong. 
> 
> Also note I spell and make the grammar of the Delacours speech wrong sometimes when they are speaking English to mimic Rowling's style of writing non-native speakers of the English language. 
> 
> Llet me know in particular what you think Draco means in terms of 'I defy you stars'?


	5. Duels and Curses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione learns a dangerous curse.

_**Chapter Five – Duels and Curses** _

_**Author's Note:** _

An Easter gift from me to you! (If you celebrate Easter that is, haha.) _**Happy Reading!**_

* * *

Hermione Delacour had expected to spend the next week imprisoned in her room and adjoining dressing room and en-suite bathroom, just like her father had ordered. Her lights flickered punishingly at dawn and awoke her. Now on the second day of solitude Hermione got up, stretches and gazes from her French-windows as she looked upon the rising sun that spanned the wilderness of miles around. Thus, when her mother comes in, at first, she had expects the unlocking door to reveal Angelica silently bringing her breakfast as she had done the day before. When she discovers it's her mother carrying her breakfast tray into her room, Hermione's lips part in surprise, though she's expecting another scolding (her mother had yet to give her one).

  'I thought I'd bring you breakfast since that father of yours is being so unreasonable. So, I took the liberty of denying him his morning pumpkin juice and brought it to you instead.' Her mother explains as she sets the tray on Hermione's bed. Hermione imagines her eyes were widening so much that they shall soon start bulging out of her skull – breakfast in bed was reserved for birthdays only in the Delacour household and it wasn't her birthday today.

Hermione almost ran and leapt onto her bed and instantly started digging in to her food. Breakfast is two delicious sugar and lemon covered pancakes that she loves so much. 'I was wondering whether you'd be interested in going out into the garden with me to practice a certain duelling technique?' Her mother continues. Hermione eagerly nods. 'Good.' Her mother then conjures a blue jumpsuit and a short set of robes. 'Wear these. I'll meet you in ten minutes.'

* * *

   Ten minutes later Hermione is dressed in the clothes her mother had conjured and was racing to the discreet little spot her mother had described at the far end of the chateau garden. Just beyond the sprinklers where Hermione and Gabrielle had been two days before.

    'You're here.' Her mother comments: her 13 inch, silver coloured, wand is firmly in her hand. 'Stand with your wand at the ready. I will teach you a spell that you will never learn at an _Anglais_ school. For a mother knows when her daughter will need assistance.' Her mother tells Hermione rather cryptically.

  'Now I want you to circle your wand in repeated small circular motions steadily for the count of three and then on the third circle point the wand towards my heart, in the centre of my chest.' Her mother instructs intimating the motion. 'Then slowly say _'Veelaaaaum Patrirus.'_ Nothing happened, although her mother wasn't pointing her wand at Hermione.

   'This won't hurt you, _ma_ _Mère_?' Hermione asked anxiously.

   'It's nothing I cannot handle.'

 _I can't remember a time she's been so vague,_ Hermione thinks to herself.

     'Do it, Mireille!'

   'Alright.' Hermione gulps her breath and tries to follow her mother's instructions before saying the incantation. Her mother did nothing but twitch, but that could be the morning chill.

   'No! Please, for goodness sake, get it right! It's imperative. Try again _Veelaaaaum Patrirus._ Make sure you elongate the 'a' sound as it is in the English language and lower your pitch on " _Veelaaaaum"_ but makes sure your pitch goes at least a note higher on ' _Patrirus'."_ Her mother snaps at her. Hermione feels bad but does as she says, concentrating harder this time.

    This time, by the time Hermione utters ' _Veelaaaaum Patrirus'_ her mother goes flying across the grass. ' _Mère?'_

   'I'm fine, Mireille.' Her mother replies to Hermione as she stands up. 'Again, say it like you mean it.'

   Hermione tries to again and this time her mother lands in the pound a good ten feet away. Her mother commands 'again, louder.'

    This time as Hermione produces a half-baked shout ' _Veelaaaaum Patrirus'_ her mother disappears once again into the air only this time she rises up, up, into the skies before landing somewhere outside their garden entirely.

* * *

'Uh-oh, oh no!' Hermione says as she watches her mother fly. She turns to her right and runs towards the large oak tree that stands between her and the hedges of the garden fence. Wand forgotten about in her panic, Hermione climbs the huge tree until she can lower herself down onto the opposite side of the gadern fence.

   In the far distance she can see her mother lying helplessly in the fields. She runs as fast as her legs can carry her, annoyed at herself that she has never taken exercise as seriously as she should. Fortunately for her mother a man in wizard's robes is helping her.

   'It's alright. She'll be alright. Her neck's not broken at least.' A familiar voice tells Hermione. 'Here Madame, drink this. It will heal your fractured broken limbs.' The man says to Hermione's mother. Apolline accepts the potion and Hermione hears her gulp it down quickly. 'And here, have some chocolate.'

  'You might want to be more careful casting curses like that within your own home.'

    'Professor Lupin?' Hermione says realising that she should be able to recognise those shabby robes anywhere.

    'Her – I mean, Miss Delacour…' Professor Lupin says as he now stands before her. His soft green eyes looked her up and down.

    'What are you doing here, Professor?'

     'Oh I – I was going to ask you the same question, Miss – I mean _Mademoiselle_ Delacour.' Professor Lupin replies, hands in his pockets. It was the first time he had addressed her as such. 'And I think it is best for you to remember that I am regrettably no longer your Professor.'

     'Oh of course – I am so sorry, about that – of course. I just didn't think I'd ever see you again… Mr Lupin.' Hermione stutters. Remus Lupin smiles at her. His smile makes Hermione blush – she has had a crush since he saved her from the dementors at the beginning of her third year at Hogwarts.

    'Well I am rather glad you did see my daughter again.' Her mother says as she sits up painfully on the ground. 'Otherwise I could be likely lying here to die right now. I think that's quite enough practice for one day, Mireille.' Her mother tells her daughter.

    'Mireille?'

   'My second name which my mother prefers to call me.' Hermione explains.

   'I like both ''Hermione'' and "Mireille" as names, Mademoiselle.' Remus Lupin told her. She could tell he meant it too and it makes her cheeks go from faint pink to violent red within a second.

     'Then please feel free to call me by such, Sir – I mean Mr Lupin.' Hermione says and held out her hand, boldly gesturing him to kiss it.

      'Only if you call me Remus in return, _Mademoiselle Delacour_.' Remus Lupin teases sweetly.

     'But of course, _Remus.'_ Hermione blushes even harder as she enjoys the taste of her ex-professor's name on her tongue. Her heart skips her beat as he takes her hand in his: it's suddenly like electricity radiating from his warming touch and it puts Hermione's soul on a Bunsten burner. Remus bends his head and his closed lips brush ever so lightly against her knuckles. No sooner than as his lips had made contact that Hermione thought her heart was going to stop or explode with adrenaline that all of a sudden, the contact was lost. Hermione couldn't remember her hand feeling so cold.

      'I hate to break up this sweet little reunion between a teacher and his student but could you get me away from this sheep land? Please?' Apolline Delacour speaks up. Remus and Hermione both apologise at the same time for ignoring the still-injured woman and Remus does a chivalrous thing and carried her mother and escorted her and Hermione to the front gates of the Delacour Chateau.

 _There had to be more than one reason for Remus being in Gryffindor,_ Hermione muses as they all await the opening of the front gates. They open and Remus carries Apolline to the front entrance of the chateau where a dumbfounded Gabriel Delacour stands with his mouth comically dropped.

      ' _Qu'est-il arrivé à ma femme?'_ Gabriel shouts furiously towards Remus Lupin.

     'I apologise for having a very, very limited understanding of your language, Monsieur Delacour, but your wife was hit with a curse…' Remus starts to explain but then suddenly finds Gabriel's wand digging in his Adam's apple. 'By your…daughter, Monsieur.' Remus chokes out. Gabriel Delacour lowers his wand and turns on his wife.

     'Why on God's green earth is Hermione outside – she is meant to be in her room being punished!' Hermione's father explodes at her mother.

     'Well _merci, mon cher,_ but alas I find our daughter's education far more important than her punishment.' Apolline spat back. Gabriel was taken back by his wife's rarely-seen anger. Apolline then turns to Remus. 'Monsieur Remus, would you l'ke to say for some zee?' Apolline politely asks Remus in extremely broken English.

     'She means would you like to _stay_ for some _tea.'_ Hermione whispers to Remus discreetly, savouring the closeness the act allows for her to be near his skin.

      'That is very generous of you Madame but…' Remus starts but is interrupted.

   'I insist!' Both Apolline and Hermione announce loudly at the same time, grabbing at the arms of his robes to pull him inside the chateau.

* * *

Gabriel and other servants (all of whom have no say in the matter) escort them to the lounge room with the muggle television inside.

    It is a lovely room of Edwardian design, with yellow wallpaper adorning the walls as well as dark carpeting and a large screen television adorning the wall. It has three sets of beautiful French-windows dressed in lemon coloured velvet curtains. It also has a radio, three bookshelves and even a games console within its multitude of objects and gadgets.

   'Your home is lovely.' Remus commented, although it was unclear who he was speaking to.

' _Merci, Monsieur.'_

    The family and their guests take their seats on the loveseat sofas and order their teas: both Hermione's parents order two black teas, although Apolline order's one with four sugars and Gabriel had none, and Hermione and Remus order two milky teas with two sugars.

    'So, Remus, Hermione told 'e you were 'nfairly d'smissed from 'our job?' Apolline says as she takes her teacup off the coffee tray Agathe her old maid had placed on the coffee table in front of her. Apparently Agathe was off bed-changing duties today and Hermione briefly wondered if Apolline had given Agathe her old duties back or _if it was only because the Malfoy's had tired the other servants out._

     Remus thanks Agathe for his tea as she places the teacup in front him. Agathe blushes [a sight Hermione has never witnessed before] as she walks away smiling. 'No actually Madame, I quit.'

    'Oh, why?' Gabriel inquires. The Delacours were speaking only in English now, for Remus Lupin's benefit.

     'Because parents wouldn't think too highly of their sons and daughters being taught my werewolf.' Remus explains, his cheeks flushing with shame. 

     'They wouldn't like a werewolf teaching _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ post? _'_ Says Gabriel Delacour.

     'Bah! British! How foolishly prejudice some wizards and 'itches are towards those unlike zemselves!' Says Apolline.

    'I know, right?' Says Hermione.

     'I thank you for your words, but I beg of you not feel pity for me.' Remus Lupin says his head turning towards Hermione's, which was merely inches away.

      'What do you plan to do for a living now?' Gabriel says.

       'I honestly do not know yet.'

         'You mean to say that the British casts you out because of your lycanthropy, your illness? For shame on the British for their intolerance. The French has no such problem with any magical creatures.' Apolline says proudly, a French-flag waving in her mind. She turned to her husband. 'Gabriel? _Mon cher, n'as-tu pas dit hier soir que tu n'as toujours pas d'assistant?'_ Apolline asks.

        ' _Entre autres choses.'_ Gabriel grins but Hermione cringes.

 _'_ _Pourquoi ne pas embaucher M. Lupin? Il était le meilleur professeur d'Hermione?'_ Apolline asks her husband.

        'Oui, _ma cherie.'_ Gabriel agrees before turning to Monsieur Lupin. 'Monsieur my wife was just informing me of how well Hermione has spoke of you…'

         'She has?' Lupin smiles.

         'Indeed. Very well. I was 'ondering if you would 'ike to become ma new potions assistant?' Gabriel offers.

         'Yes, please accept this offer, Monsieur Lupin. I 'ave a friend who 'ives nearby, Sabrina, you remember her don't you, Mireille? She works at the Ministry of Magic in France, I can put in a good 'ord for you so your travel papers come quickly. There is plenty of residents close to 'ere.' Apolline adds.

     Remus looks torn between rejecting and accepting the generous offer. He opens his mouth to refuse but a glance at Hermione's encouraging smile causes him to squeak 'Oui'.

      'How do you British say? Jolly Good?' Gabriel laughs.

       'Yes, Jolly Good.' Agrees Remus. They then order champagne to toast to their new partnership.

        'Papa, what on earth is all this noise about?' Fleur asks in sleepy French as she sways into the lounge room.

        'Our new partnership, _Mon bel Ange_ _._ ' Gabriel cheerily replies in French. He and Remus are standing drinking their bubbly champagne. 'To our partnership.' Gabriel chimes again in English and he and Remus drink to that.

* * *

' _I've been feeling a bit off- colour. This potion is the only thing that helps.'_

_\- J.K. Rowling_

* * *

**_Author's Notes:_** _**More Draco next chapter, I promise. I appreciate all feedback, especially reviews!** _


	6. Of Deatheaters and Maneaters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the World Cup takes place and Hermione Delacour returns to Hogwarts in her fourth year.

_**Chapter Six -Of Deatheaters and Maneaters ** _

' _I wasn't actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity.'  
_

― _F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

****

* * *

**_[The Quidditch World Cup, 1994]_ **

Hermione had wanted to attend the Quidditch World Cup Tournament with only the Weasleys and Harry Potter. And she would have, if not for Fleur kicking up a fuss arguing that "she [and Gabrielle, presumably] _deserved_ to go". Their parents had sided with Fleur and had booked tickets for the match. The only up-side was that they invited Remus Lupin too, as Gabriel wanted to "get to know" his new assistant.

   Now Hermione sits in good seats watching the Tournament, bored out of her mind, thinking that the best part of the event was when she had been laughing at that cute dancing Leprechaun that had magically been projected in the sky. Everyone else seemed to be loving it. Hermione dearly wishes that she could be with her friends rather than her family, at least then she'd have a good laugh with them.

   'I was thinking about catching a spot of…fresh air?' Remus whispers into her ear. Hermione thinks he sounds rather nervous. Not like Quiverell nervous, just a little jittery. 'Or perhaps, you'd rather try and find Harry and Ron?' Remus offers.

   Hermione thinks. Harry and Ron would probably be so high up that the game would be over by the time she found them, not to mention that she didn't want to sour their spirits. 'A bit of fresh air would be wonderful, thank you, Prof – I mean Remus.' Hermione giggles. _Damn this silly crush!_

   Remus, to Hermione's surprise and delight, took her hand to help her stand from her seat. Once again it felt like there was electric currents running through his touch to hers. Hermione quickly pulled away but felt guilty when she saw Remus's smile drop like she had killed his puppy.

   Hermione stumbles on her words: 'Sorry, I, er, don't um, like being touched, by um, people.' She quickly turns to her parents and tells them where she is going.

   Remus didn't smile but nodded as he turned, and she followed him to an outdoor area where four wizards were smoking their pipes in the smoking area.

   'Sorry if I interrupted the tournament for you, but you just seemed so bored.' Remus tells her as they stand looking up at the moonless sky.

   'I was bored.'

   'I could tell.' Remus smiles at her again and Hermione can't help but think it's the most adorable puppyish smile she's ever seen. 'Are you cold?'

    'A little.' Hermione shivers. Remus suddenly starts to unzip his jacket. 'Remus no, I didn't mean for you to do that.' It was too late as the ex-Professor had already placed the fleece over the witch's shoulders.

    'Relax Hermione-Mireille, you need it more than I do. I'm a werewolf remember? I'm always warm.' Remus reassures her. Hermione isn't convinced, but lets it go as she feels the warmth of the jacket and the faint smell of chocolate surround her.

  'Are you happy working for my father then?'

   'Err…yes…I am.'

    'But…?'

    'But I do miss teaching more than I originally imagined possible.'

    'Oh Remus, I really do wish there was something I could do.'

   'What you need to do is get away from here, now! Miss Delacour.' Says an annoyingly familiar voice from behind her. Hermione didn't even need to turn around to see the speaker to know who he was.

   'Pray tell, why is that, Malfoy?' Hermione says as she listens to his footsteps approaching her. Malfoy grabs her shoulder and turns her around to face his intense gaze. The serious stare did not match the themes and tone of his next words.

   'Because _they're_ coming, and do you really think its only going to be muggles the Death-eaters are after? No. It's going to be first muggles, then mudbloods, then other half-breeds, then people who simply aren't like them. You fall into two of those categories, Miss Delacour.' Malfoy tells her honestly. He continues staring at her an intensity that makes Hermione shiver. 'Unless of course, you want to be in the air with your skirt up showing your knickers? That'd give us all a good laugh.'

   'What on earth are you -' Remus starts but then there's an explosion of fire. 'Hermione, run! Run, run, let's get out of here now!' Remus cries as he gently pushes Hermione to give her the necessary encouragement not to freeze on the spot. When he sees that she is not running nearly as fast as was necessary he lifts her into his arms and carries her, running with a speed only a mature werewolf could manage.

   'I think we're safe.' Hermione says once they are fully hidden with the help of trees and bushes. No one was out here for miles.

   'Yes, I think so.' Remus agreed, listening out for any forms of life except bugs and the cuter woodland creatures you find in muggle nature books.

   'Remus…you can put me down now.' Hermione says, her limbs still in his bridal hold.

   'Oh, of course, yes, of course.' Remus says and places Hermione softly down on her feet.

   'I think you might have just saved my life. Thank you so much, Professor Lupin!' Hermione realises and without warning hugs Remus tightly. Remus, in return, doesn't even bother to correct her on her inaccurate term of address towards him.

* * *

**_[The Hogwarts Express, September 1994]_ **

No one mentions the attack at the World Cup. In fact, no one on the Hogwarts Express mentioned Quidditch at all that during that journey, as Hermione sits with a large crowd of people on her way back to school for the first time in months. Hermione feels glad, but nervous, about returning.

  'Care for one of Mum's cakes, Hermione?' George Weasley asks. He and his brother Fred had sat her down beside them as soon as they had boarded the train.

   'No, thanks. I had something to eat before I left home.' Hermione replies.

   'But that was surely hours ago?' George frowns.

   'Oh, back away, brother, I know what the lady would like.' Fred smirks and then, to everyone's surprise, he stands and kneels in front of her. 'Hermione Delacour, my beloved, would you do me the honour of being my one and only, my lover and my wife, for the rest of my life.' Fred said with a wide smirk as he opened his fist to reveal a peppermint candy ring.

   'Oh Fred.' Hermione gushed. 'I am so honoured that you would offer me, well, such an honour, but I'm afraid I just don't deserve you.' Hermione finishes her comical rejection. Although it is not so comical for Fred Weasley, whose eyes lower and his smirk vanishes.

   'But why, beloved?'

   'Because she's far too bloody good for you.' Theodore Nott's words may have come off as a quip, but Hermione knew her Theo too well to know that there was an overtone of seriousness and an undertone of bitterness in his voice. He was adorning his 'Hermone's garcon' t-shirt proudly [a midnight blue v-neck t-shirt with Hermione's swirly cursive initials written on it in gold lettering, which all Hermione's garçons have worn since the start of third year at Boot's suggestion that they appear "as a team"].

   'Hermione Delacour has the face of angel but deep down she's a maneater. No one can have her because she wants no one. Mere mortals have no hope in Hell. Those that do have hope can only pray that one day she sees them for what they truly are.' Theo continues, touching the emblem on the left breast of his t-shirt.

    'And who are these more than "mere mortals", precious Theo? You?' Hermione says, leaning towards the suddenly blushing boy. As embarrassed as she was to admit it, Hermione secretly adored the affect that she had on the male gender. She had learnt to adore it. Her classical beauty that her mother and Angelica had perfected throughout her life was something that she was meant to be proud of – and now she was. At first, when she realised in first year that Neville Longbottom secretly held a picture of only her in his bag with his Remembrall was extremely embarrassing; even more so when Draco Malfoy had teased Neville about it constantly for two years straight. But then she realised that it hadn't ever been about her at all, really. It was about Malfoy's cruelty towards Neville "being a dork", as Slytherins had always put it.

    No one had ever done anything to Hermione except admire her. Whether that for her beauty, her brains, her wit, or her popularity: every boy at Hogwarts was in awe of her; all the teachers adored her, even Severus Snape didn't pick on her like he did others. And how could they not? She has fantastic genes. Her mother's Veela heritage courses through her veins and comes out in her silvery-blonde curls and alabaster skin, which is almost translucent when she doesn't sunbathe (although she tans more easily than others in her immediate family, for a reason Hermione's never figured out). She had similar eyes to her fathers, although she could see her mother's eyes in shape, and they just attracted people to body had also been toned from taking ballet lessons since she was two years of age. In short, Hermione Mireille Delacour was angelically beautiful, as close to a perfect beauty Hogwarts has ever gotten. Not know or relish in that fact was to be insensible, selfish, and to never have looked at her own face in a mirror before.

    No. Hermione was going to enjoy her life with all its perks. So, when Theo squeaked 'yes', she hopped off her seat and onto his lap shamelessly. Smiling, as she leaned inwards to his awaiting face and puckered lips, only to narrowly miss his lips entirely and give him a prolonged kiss on the side of his cheek.

    'Why do you even hang out with us, Theodore? A Slytherin normally sticks by Slytherins.' Ronald Weasley grumbles as he shoots Theo unexpected daggers: he's never done that before.

    'Because inter-house unity is a _beautiful_ thing.' Theo replies as he pulls Hermione closer into him and kisses her silvery blonde hair, applying light enough pressure so she doesn't realise. Hermione smiles at his contact with her skin: Theodore Nott was her touchy-feely garçon.

   Hermione Delacour became so wrapped up in the conversations about her marvellous charm and beauty, that she was unaware of the fact that her new pet, Pantalaimon, had leapt out of her bag, and had snuck out of the hole in the side of the compartment.

* * *

Draco growled. He could sense his so-called "Mate's" betrayal from another compartment only a few feet away. Draco couldn't stand it. He didn't know for certain because until he had bitten her he wouldn't be able to read her mind.

    It made his head and heart ache.

     He wouldn't stand for it.

    'Where are you going, mate?' Asked Blaise Zabini: ever since Blaise had found him transforming into a Veela, they were becoming closer friends than they had been. Blaise was the only person outside of Narcissa Malfoy, Severus Snape, and Draco himself that knew about his "Veela secret". He was the only person Draco could go to.

    'Nothing. I need some air.' Draco snaps and walks out of the compartment where Crabbe and Goyle had been discussing and mocking the "pathetic-ness of Longbottom": _As if I haven't already covered that territory,_ Draco thought.

    He doesn't bother looking for her. _It's pointless anywhere, the Delacour girl likes Saint Potter and his Merry Men._ Instead he smiled when he spots Pansy Parkinson being shoved out of her own compartment. _She must have upset her girl-friends._

    'Oh Drakey! Drakey! I'm so happy to see you! Oh Daphne is being such a wicked witch today, took what I said about her new robes completely the _wrong way.'_ Pansy says as she runs into his relaxed arms, throwing her arms around his stiff neck. Draco forced his whole body to relax. Something about the situation told Draco that it was almost certainly not in the "wrong way" Daphne had took Pansy's comments.

    'Its alright, Pans. You have me now.' Draco replied and patted her back. It was true. Draco wasn't even going to bother with Miss Delacour: it was too difficult and too impossible after the way she had spoken to him at her family home in summer. Draco took Pansy's hands and led her to what was probably the last empty compartment on The Hogwarts Express.

   'Drakey! Draco, what's the hurry?' Pansy asked as he pushes her inside. She was wearing nothing but a pink camisole top and an inch above the knee skirt and it usually turned him on – but there was no need in Pansy's mind to be so impatient.

    He started snogging her, as they usually did since February last year. She kissed him back and revelled in it. Their hands were all over each other, those Pansy's hands flowed over his body more freely than his did to hers. Not that Pansy noticed much or cared at all. Draco had been so strange over the summer, not even bothering to give her attention in the form of a letter, that she thought she had upset him somehow.

     Then Draco did something most unexpected. He pushed her onto the compartment seat, knelt down, and began kissing her knee and then her naked upper thigh, bunching up her new skirt as he did so.

    'Drakey darling, are you sure about what you're doing?' Pansy asked breathlessly. Draco stopped kissing her, like he was considering her feelings. 'Oh Draco, you're such a gentle Englishman, I didn't mean for you to stop. I want you to do it.'

      Draco would later say he didn't know why he did it. And that would be the truth – he didn't know, at least not for sure. Maybe it was because _she wanted him to,_ maybe because she called him a "Englishman" like Hermione did once, or maybe it was just his horny animalistic instincts – in any case, he felt compelled to bite Pansy Parkinson's thigh and he gave into compulsion.

     Draco Malfoy sunk his white teeth into Pansy Parkinson. But her blood was not tasty and nor were her screams pretty.

     Draco, for a minute, thanked Merlin internally that Pansy stopped screaming seconds after he had bitten her, but then he paled impossibly white as he witnessed her eyes roll into the back of her head and shut. Pansy went limp on the seat and wouldn't awaken no matter how hard he shook her.

     Draco slapped her face in the hopes of waking her. Nothing changed, except

the blood had completely disappeared from the young witch's cheeks. He quickly bit his own wrist and pushed his blood down Pansy's helpless throat. It didn't help.

    'HELP! SOMEBODY! I NEED HELP NOW!' Draco screamed. No one came. He then spotted a tiny cat jumping on the seat next to Pansy. 'Bugger off, cat! Can't you see she's unwell.' Draco said and pushed the cat off the seat before picking up Pansy carefully and running out of the compartment.

      He continued to scream for help as he ran down the train: 'STOP THE TRAIN. STOP THE TRAIN. SHE MIGHT BE DYING!' Draco cried.

* * *

_**[The Hogwarts Library, First Week Back at Hogwarts, September 1994]** _

Hermione Delacour needed her peace and quiet in the library after the stress of the days prior. Dumbledore had announced a previously banned Triwizard Tournament and that meant some of her fellow students, possibly even her eldest garçon Cedric Diggory could potentially die, and that she couldn't bear thinking about.

     Of course that wasn't to mention the fact that students had been whispering about the disappearance of Pansy Parkinson and how she might be the student who was rushed to St. Mungos when The Hogwarts Express unexpectedly stopped on their way to Hogwarts. In a horrible way, Hermione kind of hopes that it is true, for at least it meant that none of her friends or someone she actually liked was hurt.

_No none of this is worth thinking about._

     Hermione blocks negative thoughts from her mind and concreates on her well-loved copy of _Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet._ It had been one of the books Angelica had used to refine her English abilities before Hermione had attended Hogwarts.

    'What're you reading, Miss Delacour?' Draco Malfoy asks as she finds him sitting down opposite her on _her table._

   'Nothing that you would like or concerns you, Malfoy.' Hermione snaps, turning back to the text she is reading.

    'How would you know that? And I prefer Draco, I'm assuming you prefer Hermione?' Draco smile is almost friendly towards her as he sits casually back in his chair.

    'I prefer you shutting up and going away from _my table_ and leaving me the Hell alone!'

   'Tut-tut, don't be so rude Hermione.' Draco chides. 'Or do you want my father to persuade the Ministry to _not_ allow your father's potions into this fine country?'

    'You wouldn't!' Hermione gasps as her eyes bulge at Draco's grinning ones.

    'I would if you don't speak to me, politely.' Draco smirks, knowing he's won this round.

     'Fine. I know you wouldn't like what I'm reading because its by one of the greatest muggle writers of all time!' Hermione says through her teeth. Draco chuckles under his breath as he mentally compares her to a kitten trying to be a lion. 'What's so funny?'

   'You. You're very aggressive for a Ravenclaw.' Draco laughs, slapping his hand on the table.

    'Piss off, Malfoy.' Hermione mutters, returning once again to her reading.

    'The Ministry, Miss Delacour.' Draco sing-songed. Hermione groaned. He was forcing her to communicate with him and she did not like it one bit. 'Anyway, I _might_ like this muggle's works even if I don't like his filthy blood.' Draco reasoned.

    'Really?'

   'Don't tell me your going deaf, yes really. You interest me, _Hermione._ And I would appreciate it if you would look. At. Me instead of that book when talking to me.' Draco said and Hermione's head snapped up to meet his silvery, glowing, gaze. _At least, that is a little tiny bit of the reason, at least_ Draco thought as he wanted those enchanting honey-brown eyes to lock on his.

    'I interest every boy in this school, and I'd rather not.' Hermione said and looks down to his hands instead; she notices his left wrist is bandaged wrapped. 'What happened to your wrist?'

     'That, I don't want to discuss. I also know you interest every boy in this school, that's part of the reason I want to get to know you. Now, tell me about that book you prefer over me.' Draco said, or more accurately put, ordered her.

    'It's by a muggle named William Shakespeare who lived in the sixteenth century. He is regarded as one of the most significant, if not thee most significant British writer of all time by muggles. This is his play _Romeo and Juliet,_ its about two young lovers whose families are at war and it ends tragically because of it.' Hermione explained in very simple terms.

    'Why would you love someone who hates your family?' Draco asked curiously.

   'Read it and find out if you're so " _interested in me"'_ Hermione said and slammed the book on the table before getting up and storming away to the Ravenclaw common room.

* * *

_**[Later that Night]** _

Hermione was ready to hit the sack as she put Pantalaimon into his cat carrier. Gabrielle had adopted the other kitten and named it "Dinah", at Hermione's suggestion. Hermione knew her roommates were far from through with being noisy, at least until Viola-Jane Williams came back from the bathroom. Hermione envied Lisa Turpin for being able to sleep through Katerina Pavlov's and Isobel MacDougal's snogging sessions.

     Not that Lisa or indeed anyone but Hermione knew about them. Katerina ("Kitty") Pavlov and Isobel MacDougal's romance was the definition of the word "secret". It never even left their dorm room, and romantic interactions only happened when their roommates were asleep or were out. Hermione was only in the know after a nightmare about the Werewolf she had seen in third year and Kitty and Isobel had been romantic for the whole of third year by then. They made her swear on her own and even Gabrielle's lives that she wouldn't tell a soul. She hasn't.

   'Veelas are so romantic, don't you think, Isobel?' Kitty muses as she played with her girlfriend's straight brunette hair.

    'I do! I was reading that they all mate for life and that the male ones are only attracted to one mate or "die a most excruciating death" within a certain timeframe.' Isobel replies, enjoying her love's affections.

   'Where – how do you two know that?' Hermione eyes them suddenly. She knew from how she had skim read that bloody book Malfoy had "gifted her" with, that Isobel had quoted that book.

    'Hermione – I well, I…'

    'Oh – Isobel and I read that book you put in the bin the other day. Its actually very interesting, though it looks duller than magnolia.' Kitty speaks for her girlfriend – they do this a lot. Kitty then pulls the light book out from under the pillow of Isobel's bed, which they are both sat on.

    'Oh.'

     'Yeah. It's fascinating, where did you get it?'

   'Well, Isobel, a er, it was a gift.' Hermione stuttered.

   'Oh I wish you would give me gifts like that, Isobel!'

    'Don't you have enough gifts from your homeboy lover, Kitty-Kat?' Isobel says sourly. Kitty grimaces at the loathed "nicknamed".

   'I don't ask for them, _Izzy._ Karenin just sends them to me without my consent! I hate every one of them. I love you, not him. Please don't call me "Kitty-Kat".' Kitty pleads and goes to stroke Isobel's face but Isobel flinches away.

   'Whatever. I just don't understand why your stupid father can't accept us and expects you to marry a bloody muggle boy when you're a witch now!' Isobel fumes. Kitty just kisses her in reply. 'Lets not talk about it.' She suggests and hooks her fingers under Isobel's nightshirt. Its Hermione's cue to look away, but then she notices her kitten, "Pan", gazing at the two lesbian witches with wide, curious eyes.

 _Oh no you don't Pantalaimon. Ten year old boys or cats shouldn't be watching adult behaviour._ Hermione thinks, knowing Pan can read her mind. When he doesn't look away from the scene, Hermione grabs her bedsheet and throws it over the cat carrier - blinding the ten-year-old-in-a-cats-body from Kitty and Isobel's erotic scene.

   But she doesn't need to as Kitty jumps off of Isobel's bed and leaps onto her own (which is beside Hermione's) as Viola-Jane suddenly walks into the dorm room to go to bed.

    'You're even later tonight, Viola.' Isobel notes. 'How have you not brushed your teeth to disintegration yet?' It was a well-known fact that Viola-Jane Williams was obsessed with brushing her teeth – she did it for thirty minutes every morning and night.

   'Don't bully someone for taking care of their teeth, MacDougal. And my name is not Viola, it's Viola- _Jane._ ' Viola-Jane snaps, and Hermione has to agree with her - it was only right to call a girl by her preferred name.

    'I wasn't bullying you – I know your family are all weird teeth-healers so you're under a lot of pressure.' Isobel mutters.

     'What? I'll have you know Isobel, that my family are not at all "weird" and nor are they all "muggle teeth healers", some are, and most aren't. My Dad's an accountant, he handles other muggles money for them, and my Mum's a hairdresser. My grandparents worked in shops all their lives. The list goes on and on.' Viola-Jane rants before grabbing her bed covers and throwing them over her head to block out the world. Viola-Jane pet Eastern Screech Owl, appropriately named "Hawkleen", starts making loud noises.

   'Would you shut that bird up?' Demands Kitty, who is now snuggled up in her bed next to Hermione's bed.

    'I don't think she's that loud.' Viola-Jane shrugs.

   'Oh, you must be deaf, as she bloody well is!' Isobel retorts angrily: it was always when the rest of the girls were shattered tired that the owl decided to start up its vocals.

    Viola-Jane shrugs again and fed Hawkleen a bug or two (which she rather disgustingly keeps in her bedside cabinet). The feeding settles the bird for a minute. Viola-Jane then got under own bed covers.

   'Viola-Jane, what's a hairdresser?' Kitty asks, not understanding the English word.

   'A muggle who cuts and styles another muggles hair.' Viola-Jane explains in between her yawns.

   'Oh right.'

   Another minute or two of silence passes as the remaining awake girls lie down in their respective beds. Hawkleen produces a horse-whinny sound from her beak.

  'I'm going to strangle that bloody bird, Viola!' Isobel grumbles from her pillow. Viola-Jane doesn't hear her, as being the heaviest sleeper in all of Hogwarts, she's gone happily to the land of dreams.

* * *

'Wake up, Hermione!' Kitty says as she is starts shaking the arms of slumbering witch. Hermione's eyes pop open with the unfamiliar touch.

  'What is it, Kitty?' Hermione yawns. Her little clock read that it was far past the time to be awake, even on a Saturday.

  'Everybody is talking about it! You'll be the last to know. Look!' Kitty says as she shoves a newspaper into Hermione's face.

   The Daily Prophet reads:

_**Fourth Year Hogwarts Student Pansy Parkinson Died on The Hogwarts Express Before Even Reaching St. Mungos!** _

_Miss Parkinson Parkinson's father, Mr Prospero Parkinson has expressed his outrage at the news of his daughter's death to The Daily Prophet. Witch Coroner Locasta Burke has confirmed that the cause of Miss Parkinson's untimely death was "almost definitely due" to the Veela blood found in her bloodstream and was still present on her lips at the time of her Death. Although the Cornoner also said they had not "ruled out the present of Incompatible [with Miss Parkinson] Veela-Venom in the witch's blood as another possible cause of death". In any case, rumours are likely to be circulating around Hogwarts at the possibly of a MALE Veela in their midst. Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has yet to comment on this recent tragedy._

   Hermione's eyes widen in shock as she proceeds to read on.

* * *

_'Go, boy. Get me a doctor.'_

_-William Shakespeare_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: It's early, I know. I was itching to get the drama started in this story!  
> So what do you think about Pansy's death? Did it shock you? Let me know!  
> Happy Reading!


	7. The Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione ambushes Draco.

_**Chapter Seven – The Ambush ** _

_'Under loves heavy burden do I sink.'_

_-William Shakespeare_

* * *

Hermione has been standing behind a column near the entrance to the dungeons waiting for _the Git (_ God she had spent _too much time around the Weasleys that summer_ ) to come out from the safety of his common room.

Three minutes to the hour mark, her chance has arrived.

She reaches and grabs his unexpecting robes and shoves him into the cold wall with a thud before she points her wand at his throat, _if it's not broken why fix a good method?_ She thinks before she realises though Malfoy looks surprised he isn't trembling, unlike the last time she held her wand to his pasty neck.

'It was _you,_ wasn't it? You killed Pansy Parkinson, didn't you, I know it! That's why your eyes glow like molten silver, that's why have a bandage on your arm, that's why you wouldn't tell me why…'

'I have absolutely no idea what you're on about, Miss Delacour, I have a bandage on my arm because I -'

'Don't you **_dare_** lie to me, Malfoy. I know you're lying. I can do so much more to liars than give them teaspoon diarrhoea and a bloody nose. You gave a bloody _book_ on veelas during summer, and while I have no idea why, since it was a frigging stupid thing to do! Since now I know it was _you_ who bit Parkinson, and gave her your _lethal_ blood.' Hermione fumed. Yet, Malfoy is just standing there. _Why is he being so...casual about the whole thing!_

'My blood is not "lethal".' He mutters, his face turning from shocked to angry.

'So you admit it? If your blood isn't lethal, then why is that so-called "friend" of yours dead?'

'BECAUSE SHE IS NOT –' Malfoy stops himself from shouting by taking a breath '- she wasn't my Mate, Miss Delacour. I don't know why the bloody hell I did it: it's the worst thing I've ever done in my life, but I don't know – the urge overtook me, made me do it - I would've thought you, of all people, would understand that.'

'I understand female veelas, but I'm afraid the male version of the species remains a mystery – there's nothing on them in my family library.'

'If you'd read that book I so kindly gifted you with, you would know about the Male Veela.' Draco sighed. 'If you so much as _breathe a word_ about your accusation, then your life and your family's _will not be worth living_ , _Hermione._ ' He threatens in a hushed voice.

Hermione gasps as he shifts his weight onto the other foot and his bare arm brushes against hers [he's only wearing a short-sleeved school shirt, after all] and she feels something soft against her skin.

Hermione looks down to see white tiny feathers popping out of Malfoy's pale skin like goose-bumps.

_Feathers!_

'Why did you give me that book?' Hermione commands him to tell her. She ignores his bird-like transformation for now. _Of all the wizards in the world to turn out to be a veela!_

'If your _brilliant_ mind can't figure that out then don't bother asking.' Draco sneers.

'If her brilliant mind can't figure out _what_ , Malfoy?' Harry snarls as he marches down the corridor to stand beside his best friend.

'None of your business, Potter.' Malfoy snaps, his eyes not leaving Hermione's face. 'Are you going to use that wand or not?' Malfoy's sudden smirk told Hermione it wouldn't be useful. She lowers her wand.

'We are _nowhere_ near done.' She says and links Harry's arm as they walk away, though she couldn't help but glance back at Malfoy, _the murderer._ He is picking up his things that he had dropped when she'd ambushed him, including a tattered book that Hermione can't help but notice is her copy of _Romeo and Juliet._

* * *

**_[At Ravenclaw Table, After Dinner, Later that Evening]_ **

'Why did you even bother talking to that arsehole, Mione?' Michael Corner asks Hermione at dinner. _News always travels fast at Hogwarts._ Hermione shrugs.

'I'm not sure, Michael.'

'You aren't sure? Mione, he could have insulted you. He could have hurt you!' Harry says, his cheeks reddening with anger.

'Harry's right, Hermione. Malfoy could have done anything and you went alone. Without us. You should never go anywhere without our protection, Hermione. Malfoy is a complete git who doesn't care who he hurts and…' Ron Weasley raved on. He'd come over to the Ravenclaw table as soon as he had eaten. Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter had followed. Hermione places a delicate finger to Ron's lips and he blushes red at the gesture.

'I know he's a git, Ron. But I can defend myself. I keep you all around me because I love you all like I love my family.' Hermione announces to them all.

'Yeah, _Ron_ , our Hermione is a warrior princess. She is a grown woman who can defend herself.' Theodore says as he sneakily wraps an arm round Hermione's waist. Ron scowls at him. Hermione blushes at Theo's words. _I've never been called a woman before._

'Thank you, Theo.'

'And we love you, Hermione.' Cedric tells her.

'We were only saying it because we love you, Mione.' Harry says.

'I know Harry, I know. And I love you all too, Cedric.' Hermione told him sincerely.

'But you love me the most.' Whispers Theo. Hermione playfully elbows him.

'Equally.' She whispers back. The rest of the boys stare at them silently, before Michael Corner speaks up.

'So…what do you think of Mad Eye Moody, Mione?' Michael asks casually.

Hermione thought about the question for a minute: he seemed odd and it wasn't just his crazy appearance a lot of it had to do with that weird bottle she'd seen him drinking out of a lot: 'in short...I don't like him. I don't really trust him.'

'Is Moody you don't like? Or do you just not like the fact he's not Lupin?'

'What?…Terry how could you even suggest I'd be so prejudice? Yes, I miss Professor Lupin, but the last time I checked, we all did, you included, Terry.' Hermione says, surprised at Terry's out-of-nowhere question.

'I'm not suggesting you're prejudice, it's just you wrote about him in your letters over the summer.' Terry Boot shrugged, although his brown eyebrow had risen.

'I wrote about _all_ my Professors over the summer. I miss them all equally.' Hermione says, trying not to sound too defensive, or else Terry (the _annoyingly_ perspective garçon) would notice.

'Yeah Boot, Mione misses all her teachers, not just one werewolf, stupid.' Theo says in Hermione's defence. Boot however, looks far from convinced, but since he doesn't want to upset his favourite friend, says nothing.

'I miss him too, Mione. Lupin was the best DADA teacher we ever had. Moody could never replace him, Sirius actually wrote to me saying…' Harry's voice trails into a whisper and then nothing as his friends stare at him. To them, Sirius was still a convict. He was innocent but for all intents and purposes, Sirius Black, was for now, guilty. Even Hermione couldn't bring herself to completely trust a man who had seemed so off his rocker.

Then Hermione has a light-bulb moment: 'I know! Harry, we could all sign a petition and show it to the wizarding world and convince parents that if students are able to compete in a Triwizard tournament…' Hermione glares at Cedric who looks away, almost ashamed: he had announced to the entire school that he planned to enter, and for the first time, Cedric had not consulted Hermione first. She was still mad at him, as he'd broke the number one garçon rule which is _don't do anything without Hermione's say so._ 'Then we, the students, are capable of accepting a werewolf DADA Professor. Lupin is therefore, clearly more qualified than any current or previous professors we have or have had in the past. What do you think?'

'Brilliant.' The garçons say in unison. Hermione smiles.

'You should write the petition, Mione. We'll all sign it.' Ron says: the other boys agree.

'I will, but I will write to Professor Lupin first.' Hermione says adamant that she would be victorious. She was already so excited to have her old favourite Professor back that she could hardly sit still in her seat. If Theo wasn't holding her waist she'd be wriggling like a bug; she was sure of it.

'Er, Mione?'

'Yes, Ron?'

'Your hair it's – it looks weirder than normal.' Ron says awkwardly. _Damn, with ambushing Malfoy I forgot to take my beautifying potion,_ Hermione chastises herself and fiddles in the pockets of her casual robes to find her potion.

She downs it instantly.

'I don't think you ever look weird Hermione.' Theo says.

'Me neither.' Harry and Terry say at the same time.

'Well I do think I look weird without my potion. I've told you before what might happen if I don't take it.' Hermione says, feeling more confident as she tastes the remnants of the potion on her tongue.

'Well, I'm going to finish some homework.' Says Michael. Terry agrees to accompany him to the Common Room to finish his own homework. Both boys peck Hermione's check before they leave.

'We better go too, unfortunately, Hermione.' Harry says regrettably, although he scowled sneakily at Theo's happy small smile which had appeared as Harry spoke. 'Ron and I both have homework due to, thanks to that greasy git Snape.'

'I understand Harry.' Hermione replies and presents her cheek for another kiss or two from both Harry and Ron. They both peck her cheek willingly, and leave her and Theo alone at the Ravenclaw Table, in a mostly empty hall.

Hermione turns to leave herself, but Theo keeps hold of her waist: 'Wait a second, Hermione, I – I want to a-ask you something.' Theo begins. Hermione frowns, but relaxes back into her seated position.

'I've been meaning to ask you this for a long time Mione…' Theo says. 'You see, you and me, we've always been so comfortable around each other, and we've always been great friends – best friends really.'

'We have been best friends Theo.' Hermione agrees.

'Well I've been wanting to tell you for a long time now that...that I...that I – oh screw it, that I think we could be more than just friends, even more than best friends, really.' Theo stammers, his cheeks reddening under his warm-hued skin. Hermione did nothing but smile. Forgetting Malfoy for the time being, somehow, she knew Theodore Nott would be the one of her garçons to finally acknowledge and admit his feelings for her. And from his small smile, blushing expression, and sweaty palms on her stomach, she could see that not only was she right, but Theodore's feelings for her ran deep for a boy of his age.

Theodore Nott is a beautiful specimen with beautiful genes. He has slightly tan but fair skin and almond deep-set eyes, that make the dark (almost black) hair on his eyebrows stand out in a charming fashion. His cheekbones are high, and his jawline is large and defined. He has a thick but adequately long neck and his physique is lean. His nose is a classic Greek nose, as seen on many muggle models. His lips are almost perfectly symmetrical (except for the lower one which is prettily plumper than the upper). He also is a good foot taller than her already, and she likes that - she likes that a lot. His legs are the most muscular thing about his body. His hair is also the softest she has ever seen on a boy or man and it is a lovely rich chocolate brown shade, which finishes at his neck in loose natural waves.

Hermione leans in closer, and without warning, presses her lips hastily to his. Theodore gasps and Hermione uses this opportunity to boldly put her tongue into his warm, minty, mouth. She loves the smell of his breath: she knew there had to be a reason why, since second year, Theo had taken up chewing gum. Now she knew. He holds her closer in response, deepening their passionate kiss. She can see from his panting mouth and disappointed brown eyes that Theo is _devastated_ when she ends it abruptly. She watches him watching her.

'So that's a yes?' He asks.

'Yes, Theodore. That was and is a definite _yes_.' Hermione replies, leaning into him again.

* * *

Draco couldn't look away but at the same time he couldn't stop looking. It was just like the phrase he'd heard mudbloods use, "a living nightmare": he wanted so desperately to lower his gaze and run from the fact that his Mate was initiating romantic affections towards another male, but he couldn't. Like an insidious nightmare, Draco found himself watching with horrified eyes and a bleeding heart as he watched his only Love not care about him but care about another.

It was awfully surreal. Rationally, Draco knew that without the Veela transformation the Delacour girl meant nothing to him. She had never even said his name in three years, just making a cool sneer of 'Malfoy', just like every Gryffindor he'd ever met. _Perhaps she didn't even know his name?_ She certainly didn't know him. If she did, she might have taken some pity at least and not display her affections for others so openly around him. No. For the Brightest Witch of Her Age, Hermione Delacour was infuriatingly naïve.

'Draco? _Draco?_ Are you alright?' Blaise Zabini asked. Draco shook his head. His gaze remained focused on the Ravenclaw table, where Hermione Delacour and Theodore Nott were embracing and in the middle of a passionate make-out session. 'Let's get out of here.' Blaise said at once, standing up to assist his friend out of his seat.

They were three footsteps away from the doors to the main-doors to the Grand Hall when Draco vomited his dinner all over the Grand Hall's Floor.

'I'm taking you to Snape right now.'

* * *

Draco Malfoy looked ghostly-white, _like, as if all of a sudden, he had never been born with colour_ , that was the only way Blaise could describe it. It was scary to watch him be like this, really. Draco Malfoy, the aristocrat, the Pureblood heir to the Malfoy fortune, the son of a Death-Eater, could barely walk, as he relied on Blaise to support him by the shoulders. Draco's body went to stumble into walls in the corridors [although Blaise tried to prevent this from occurring], seemingly uncaring about the bruises Draco would get later as a result. Draco stopped as he trembled uncontrollably.

'No, please Blaise, I can't –' Draco puked some more. 'I can't stand anyone seeing my like this. I'll be fine. I swear it. Just – just take me back to my bed in the Dungeons, please.' Seeing Draco Malfoy beg like that forced Blaise Zabini into submission, despite the Italian wizard's better judgement.

'I-I killed Pansy – I kil-killed the first girl I ever kissed.' Draco whispered once Blaise had helped him lie back on the sofa: Blaise had feared that Draco would surely collapse before he had got the Veela to his bed.

'Its not your fault, Draco, not really. You didn't know what would happen if you bit her when she wasn't your mate.' Blaise says softly. 'We haven't learnt about female veelas yet, and you told me that there isn't a single book; except the one you gave to Miss Delacour; that says anything about male veelas, so how could you have known? I've skim read that book myself since you brought it to my mother's birthday party and there's jack about happens when you bite someone whose not your mate.'

'I still hate myself for it.' Draco whispered as tears swelled up in his eyes, but they didn't fall. Any boy or man in his position would have been bawling at the loss of a friend as close to them as Pansy Parkinson was to Draco. _But Draco isn't that type of person._ He sniffed up his cries and Blaise couldn't help his heart going out to the poor boy.

'Oh my goodness!' Said a dark-haired first or second year student, who had just walked through the Slytherin Common Room doors. 'Are you alright? There was vomit leading all the way to the common room!'

'I'm sorry – who are you?' Blaise asked as Draco was too distressed to do so, even though the question was evident in the latter boy's face.

'I'm Astoria.' The dark-haired girl replied and curtseyed like a proper lady. 'Astoria Greengrass. I'm a second year, Slytherin, obviously.' The girl stroked her green and silver tie with strange _affection._ Blaise thought "Toria", or whatever the hell her name was, was weird, even for a second year.

'Who are you boys? Oh, Dear Merlin. Your friend – he looks like he's growing sicker by the second.' Toria said as she drew closer to the two boys. 'Have you used a cooling charm on him?'

Blaise shook his head: 'No.' He hadn't even thought of it. Blaise doubted it would improve Draco's condition – _this isn't an illness as per say, after all._

Before Blaise could object Toria had removed her wand from her school robes and casted a simple cooling charm on Draco Malfoy – he let out a deep breath of relief. 'Thank you.' He says to Toria.

'You're welcome. My Nanny taught me a range of healing spells and useful charms before I got to Hogwarts. She was right when she said that I'll need them, regardless of whether I'm on the Quidditch team or not.' Toria replied. She was smiling at Draco's state of improved health. Toria held out a chocolate frog to the ill boy and he accepted it shakily.

'You like quidditch?' Draco asked in surprise, as he shoved the chocolate frog into a pocket.

Toria laughed, a cute, girlish, bell-like, laugh: 'Nope. I doubt any real girl does. But I happen to _like_ guys that play quidditch.' Toria had the confidence to wink at Draco. _She's got to be the most over-confident second year ever._ Draco shakily laughed with her despite of, or perhaps because of, his pain. _Perhaps it was a relief to just pretend to be a carefree teenager once in a while?_ Blaise thought to himself. _Merlin knows, he needs it._

* * *

_Dear Remus,_

_I know I've pretty much just left home last week but I've had an idea which means that I simply have to write to you now._

_My friends and I have come up with a way for you to be our DADA teacher again!_

_We are going to start a petition and get it looked at by the Ministry. We are going to tell them that if we students can participate in barbaric Triwizard tournaments then we can handle having a kind werewolf as our professor. Obviously, we're going to add a lot more to it and make it more compelling than that, but I need to know your initial thoughts right away?_

_It's not just for your benefit Remus, Moody gives me and other people the creeps and I think he's got to go._

_Please reply to me with your answer on whether we – or rather I – can go ahead or not, as soon as you can._

_Your student and friend,_

_Hermione Mireille Delacour._

_P.S. Theo Nott asked me out and we're a couple now! How amazing is that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: So my readers, how "amazing" is that? Did you enjoy reading Blaise Zabini's perspective? Do you want more of 'The Hogwarts Delacour'? Let me know in the comments!  
> Love,  
> Fantasticlavendercrystals
> 
> I have also set up a twitter account, follow me at "Fantasticlaven" (without the quotation marks) for updates on progress, on uploads, and everything to do with my fanfiction stories!


	8. The Beauxbatons Delacour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fleur Delacour comes to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT Author's Notes:  
> I spell and say veela like 'veela and veelas' and 'I am a veela' but also use the phrase 'I am Veela'. Saying 'I am Veela' in this story is an old-fashioned way of putting it. 'I am a veela' is the modern way.  
> I indicate a change of focus on a character (or perspective, if you will, though this story is in third-person except for thoughts, which are in first person and in italics) by placing a horizontal line between the old and new focus on certain characters. The first character named in the first sentence 9 times out of 10 is the focus in that particular section.  
> I try my hardest to try and make all of Hermione-focussed sections be written in present-tense and make all of Draco's and other character focused sections be written in past tense. [Speaking of structure, I indicate larger passing of time that are important to the plot in bold in square brackets like this, or occasionally, with horizontal lines].  
> Please note I spell Fleur's English dialogue incorrectly on purpose, as with all non-native English speakers (I'm trying to emulate JK Rowling's writing style for this).  
> With that said, enjoy the chapter!

 

* * *

_**Chapter Eight – The Beauxbatons Delacour ** _

_'O brawling love! O loving hate!'_

_-William Shakespeare_

* * *

Hermione had not spoken of Malfoy's veela heritage to anyone. He was too powerful and too important to her father's business. She couldn't. _In a way, Draco Malfoy had scared me more than any Deatheater that day. I haven't even been able to corner him in lessons or around the Slytherin common room. He is always with Zabini or his other friends…_

Hermione is suddenly snapped out of her thoughts and was back in the Great Hall as Dumbledore's voice booms around her.

She knew the moment Dumbledore had introduced ' _The Beauxbatons Academy of Magic'_ that her title of _the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts,_ her position as queen bee, was going to be ripped right out from under her feet. She knows this day has been coming although she prayed that it wouldn't. Hermione knew that Fleur Delacour, her rival sister, was coming to Hogwarts, _her school._

With the elegance of a prima-ballerina performing _Swan Lake_ , Fleur flutters in with her lesser (but as equally as beautiful as Hermione) schoolmates. It knocks Hermione sick as they sigh erotically and ooze glamour and voluptuousness. She's literally gagging as her sister passes her and Hermione foolishly glances at her new boyfriend, Theodore Nott, who is gaping at Fleur and her fellow _nymphs_ like she is as shiny as precious stones and gold. Hermione nudges Theodore. _Hard._

'Ow.'

'Don't even think about looking at my sister or any girl like that, except me, ever again, Theodore.' Hermione hisses in his ear. Theodore flinches at the use of his full forename: Hermione only calls him "Theodore" if she's angry with him, or if she had something utterly imperative to say, which didn't happen that often.

Hermione relaxes a tiny bit when she realises that his gaze has dropped, but she's still annoyed that every other guy at Hogwarts, including _her_ garcons, are instantaneously acting like excited, stupid, _puppies_ at the mere sight of Beauxbatons' students – for the first time in her life, Hermione is disappointed she hadn't attended that school.

Then Hermione realises with a small bit of satisfaction that someone's eyes were actually on her, rather than her sister.

She smiles until she turns and realises who it is that's watching her. _Malfoy._

She shudders and looks away from him. Horrified that she could ever be a little bit pleased about his attention, even if she hadn't known who it was who was looking at her. Malfoy was _dangerous,_ Harry had always told her that, and it wasn't until a week ago, that she had realised the extent of the truthfulness of Harry's claim. _Malfoy is a murderer even if he says he didn't mean to kill Pansy_ _Parkinson_ , Hermione reminds herself.

As Fleur passes her she sends Hermione a smile, although Hermione reads it as a smirk. In response, Hermione childishly sticks her tongue out at her older sibling but puts her tongue away, before too many people, or worse, her friends, realise what she's doing. Fleur's smirk disappears, and she passes away quickly.

When Dumbledore reminds them, after the Durmstrang Institute students make their entrance, about the Goblet of Fire. Hermione grimaces. _How could something that is so violent and dangerous possibly be allowed in a modern school or society?_

'I want to put my name in the Goblet.' Cedric says casually. Hermione, pulled out of her thoughts once more, slaps his arm as he is sitting beside her.

'Don't even think about it Cedric! this tournament...its _barbaric_.' Hermione says. Cedric stares at her, taken back by her choice of words.

'It's a means to be remembered, Hermione.'

'Trust me, Cedric, being remembered is not all it's cracked up to be.' Harry says.

'Harry's right, Cedric. Please don't consider this. It's foolish. You'll do so many greater things than a silly tournament while you're alive, and well you'll soon graduate school and go on to a successful career.'

Cedric sighs and he smiles at her. 'That's your idea of success, Mione. But I'll think about you said, kay?' Cedric pecks her cheek and wanders off, an unusual reaction for a garçon.

'I've never known Cedric be so stupid.' Hermione thinks out-loud.

'He's a Hufflepuff, turtle-dove.' Theo replies to his girlfriend. 'Stupidity comes with the territory, just like with the Gryffindors.'

'That's true.' Michael Corner agrees, with a grin.

'Hey, knock it off!' Both Harry and Ron exclaim. Ron (who's sat beside Michael) nudges his friend in the ribs.

'What? You can't hide from the truth.' Michael half-jokes.

'Bonjour Hermione, my dear little sister.' Fleur says from behind her. Hermione is surprised at Fleur for coming over.

Hermione sighs. 'Bonjour, _sister._ What do you want?'

Fleur appears hurt for a second. 'Only to see my sister and her 'est friends since Papa is reluc'tant to ever let boys viseet.' She smiles innocently at the group, who smile back stupidly, for all are transfixed on Fleur's beauty, except for Hermione.

'Well, there's honestly no need. We knew you were coming.'

'Hermione, our parents raised you better than that! Shame on you for treating your own flesh and blood this way.' Fleur says quietly in French. The boys look confused but wait for Hermione's response.

'Yes, my own flesh and blood, my _sister_ who steals and hordes everyone's attention!' Hermione snaps back in French. She then stands and hastily leaves the Hall.

'What 'ave I done?' Fleur asks the boys, but they shrug, confused themselves by Hermione's attitude.

* * *

Hermione is feet outside of the Grand Hall when she bumps into Draco Malfoy, who is standing by a wall reading.

He looks up and at her and gives her a very-Malfoy smirk: 'You're so terribly clumsy around me, aren't you Hermione?'

'Shove it.'

'Tut-tut, do the French not understand manners? Besides you already shoved me Hermione, twice in fact.'

'We understand manners perfectly, but we do not exercise them on those unworthy.' Hermione snaps and goes to walk away.

'That book' Malfoy shouts, stopping Hermione in her step. She stares at him. 'Your book, the one about Romeo and Juliet, you were right – it is a very good read and its romantic.'

'You wouldn't know about romance if it hit you in the face, Malfoy.' Hermione retorts. 'Aren't you supposed to be mourning Parkinson? Or don't murderers ever mourn their victims?'

Malfoy's smirk drops like an artist had smeared the expression off the young wizard's face and replaced it with a grim, hardened expression in return.

'You know nothing about me, Delacour.' He says slowly, his lips stopping between every single word in emphasis. Malfoy storms away from her and Hermione turns away from him.

* * *

Her horrible accusations had cut Draco like a machete as he entered the Slytherin Common Room.

'Draco? Are you alright? Are you ill again?' Astoria Greengrass says. She sits in an armchair that faces the entrance to the common room. Astoria Greengrass puts down her glass of water as she stepped towards him.

'No. At least – I don't think so.' Draco says in broken sentences. Astoria quickly places a hand on his forehead before he can protest it.

'You're feeling warm again – do you need another cooling charm?'

'No. I'm just angry, or annoyed rather, that's all.' Draco says as he takes a seat on a leather sofa. Concerned, Astoria takes a seat beside him.

'Why?'

'Someone brought up Pansy.' Draco says with a grimace. Astoria stares at him, not understanding. 'Pansy Parkinson? Pansy Parkinson, the girl that died on the Hogwarts Express? You know what, never mind. You wouldn't understand. You're just a kid.'

Astoria gave him a hurt look. _Good job Draco, good bloody job. You killed one girl, pissed off another girl who you love, and now you've upset a bloody twelve-year-old!_ 'Oh no, I didn't mean it like that, Astoria. I'm just stressed and a bit, well, um, upset.' He told her softly. To admit his feelings was new and scary for Draco.

Astoria wipes a single tear from her eye with the back of her hand. 'I understand. Were you close to her? The girl that died on the train?'

'I was. Very close. She was my first kiss.' Draco said, as his mind wandered back to a simpler time: when he was a third year and Pansy had wanted to "experiment" with him. He shook his head. _I can't think about that, not now, not when Pansy's gone forever._ Draco placed his head in his hands at the thought.

'Oh. That's horrible for you Draco. I'm so sorry.' Astoria said and moves to rub his back. Draco does not buck away from the girl's hand.

'It's, well it's not alright but, but...I don't know! There's nothing I can do now!' Draco exclaimed and, feeling tears begin to fall yet again from his eyes, he jumps off the sofa and almost runs out of his common room and away from any eyes, so no one sees his devastation at Pansy Parkinson's death – Malfoys don't cry.

* * *

Draco went outside, thinking that the fresh air will calm him. It does a little and Draco's thankful that no one is around as he breaks down onto the damp ground. Pansy, his old friend, his first kiss, his girl, was gone and was never to return. Worst of all it was all his fault. _I hate my life, my genes, my veela ancestry, damn it all to Hell!_ He screams in his mind, but no words form on his lips.

'Are you _alight?_ ' A sweet, soft, voice (with a peculiar accent) asked, with a slight panting breath. It reminded him of his Mate's voice. Draco's eyes snap up and they fall upon a beautiful lovely blue tracksuit of a witch. It appeared as though she had been for a jog before she had come across him.

'What?'

'I'm sorry, my English aren't good, are you OK?' The witch asked again.

Draco went to wipe his face with his palm, but the beautiful witch handed him a silk handkerchief from her breast pocket. He accepted and used it. The witch, to his surprise, did not leave in disgust as he blew his runny nose with it gently. He looked up at her, from his balled-up position on the grass, and recognised her - silvery-blonde straight hair, dark blue eyes, almost unbelievable beauty – Fleur Delacour - Hermione Delacour's sister.

'I'm fine, Miss Delacour.' Draco told her, lying easily enough, yet Fleur continued to stare at him.

'You don't 'ook fine to me.' Fleur said and sat herself beside him. 'I 'nderstand 'ou kno', men don't 'ike to cry. Ma Papa don't like to cry 'ither. But 'e does. It OK.' Fleur tries to comfort Draco, although it doesn't help much. She delicately touches his weak shoulders and encourages him to sit up rather than be balled up. 'Ssh. Here. 'Ake another. It 'ill 'elp 'ou. You 'ave ruined the other one in 'our fist.' Fleur said as she gave him another handkerchief out of her pocket. It felt just as nice against Draco's blood-shot sensitive skin as the last handkerchief.

'Merci.'

'You're welcome.' Fleur said. 'Why were 'ou crying?'

'It's not-not-nothing. I-I don't wanna talk 'bout it.' Draco said in between his post-cry-hiccups.

'Its alright to talk.' Fleur whispers to him, edging closer. 'I've been pretty upset maself.'

'About what?' Draco asked and looks at Fleur's face for the first time; there were streaks of red near her eyes; evidence of her tears.

'Ma sister. Hermione, I knew we 'ad our differences but I never thought she 'ated me as much as she does.' Fleur says and began to cry again, taking yet another handkerchief out of her pocket. Draco couldn't resist the urge to put a comforting arm around the French witch's shoulder.

'Hey, look its okay, you can talk to me.' Draco tried to reassure her. In turn, Fleur buried her face into his school shirt.

'I don't know what I did. I 'dmit it, I wasn't 'ind to 'er when I was little and she was a babey as our parents 'oved 'er more than me. They were always so proud of 'er magic. Not mine. I was jealous. _Ma_ _Mère_ loved Hermione more than she ever 'oved me. Hermione was the, how you say, _gifted_ one. I wasn't.' Fleur cried into Draco's chest. Draco rubbed her back soothingly.

'I doubt that's true.' Draco said uncertainly. He knew almost nothing about the Delacour family, foreign as they were, so he couldn't say the statement with any convinction. Still, Fleur seemed to appreciate his efforts.

'Hermione's wrong about you. You're different to what she says. You're kind. 'Ou also don't seem, well, oh, that don't matter anyway.' Fleur said slowly.

'I don't seem what?'

'Fleur! There you are ! Come, quickly, back to the carriage. The Headmistress will be furious if you are out late!' A Beauxbatons girl in full uniform called, in French, which both Draco and Fleur understood.

'Coming, Roesia!' Fleur called back to the girl in her native language. She then hugged Draco and kissed his cheek gently before dashing off with ''Roesia''.

'Draco! Merlin man, I've been searching every bleeding corner of the castle looking for you, mate.' Blaise Zabini said from behind him. 'What are you doing out here ? You know what never mind, just c'mon, Snape will kill us both if we're both caught out at night.' Zabini said and Draco somehow had only just realised the sun had set.

* * *

_'I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'_

_\- Casablanca (1942)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Sooo, a friendship between Fleur and Draco, what do you think about that? Please let me know any thoughts or feelings you have about this story in the review section below. Happy Reading!


	9. Eyes on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plot thickens...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This story and chapter is dedicated to my best friend Meg, who has given me so much Harry Potter knowledge my mind can't even fit it all in some days. I love you bestie!

****

****

* * *

_**Chapter Nine – Eyes on Fire ** _

' _Blind is his love, and best befits the dark'_

_\- William Shakespeare_

* * *

The Hogwarts students, the Beauxbatons students, and the St. Dumstrang students were stood around the hall as they watched for The Goblet of Fire to announce the Champions for the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione still couldn't believe the Ministry and Dumbledore and even the parents (including hers) were allowing this to go ahead. _It's ludicrous!_

'…The Hogwarts Champion is _Cedric Diggory!'_ Dumbledore's voice booms into Hermione's ears as if it is torturing her. _Cedric Diggory. Her_ garcon. _Her Cedric._

There wasn't a sharp enough dagger for eyes alone to use as she glared at the so-called "Champion". _How dare he go against_ _ **my**_ _orders like this!_ Hermione fumes and the only minor satisfaction she gets is when Cedric turns to see his schoolmates, rather than the clapping and the bright smiles, Cedric saw only saw Hermione's furious and disappointed glare burning like fire at him. Cedric swallows and Hermione can see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he takes in her expression.

Hermione feels betrayed by him – betrayed by how Cedric had gone against her like this. She knows now that her suspicions that he had placed his name in The Goblet of Fire in secret. _He's a traitor._

Hermione then does an unexpected action and smiles at Cedric. She then turns to Theodore on her right and grabs his face, pulls him into her, and snogs him furiously with her eyes open; she smiles into the snog as she witnesses Cedric flinch at the sight. The hurt was apparent on the "Champion's" face.

_Good._

When 'Fleur Delacour's' name is called out, Hermione feels herself lose all the air that had once been in her lungs. She turns to glare and glower at her elder sister as Fleur stands up, having the gall to look proud of herself. _La chienne! Isn't it enough for Fleur, Papa's little flower, his "ange", the "princess of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic", to be the apple of every bloody eye that so much as glances at her? Is it not enough to have heavenly beauty? To know that everyone, except me, worships the godforsaken ground she walks on? Does that bimbo not realise the consequences her actions will have on little Gabrielle? If she even dares tries to encourage my little Bri to do anything so foolishly imbecile as enter a bloody Tri-freaking-wizard tournament I will cast every spell and curse known to wizards on her "gorgeously pretty little face" until God himself would be offended by his own "perfect" creatio..._

Then Dumbledore says something else that finally and utterly shatters all of Hermione's haunting thoughts: 'HARRY POTTER!'

_Creation...wait, what? Did Dumbledore just say Harry - No. That's not possible - It. Can't . Be._

'NO!' She screams as Harry sits and looks dumbfounded at their Headmaster. Everyone stares at Harry first and then Hermione. Hermione summons all her courage to shove Harry off the seat in front of her and force him to approach their Headmaster. Deep down, she knows Harry didn't put his name in that cup from the very moment his name was said: Harry didn't want or need eternal glory – she knows that.

She couldn't utter a word to anyone about it: it was too surreal, too unreal. Not one but _two_ of her boys had been signed up for potential and likely death. She didn't know how her heart would cope.

Hermione didn't speak to anyone in her lessons after, as she felt like her soul was preparing to mourn her beloved boys. She wouldn't even answer Theo when he asked her 'how she was'. There are simply no words in the English (no words even in her beloved French) language to describe her feelings fully.

Hermione stands outside of the Astronomy classroom in silence still; she is well aware of the fact that she is early, but she doesn't care, she doesn't want to deal with anyone right now. _I can't believe today, it couldn't have gone –_

Her thoughts ceased and were overtaken all of a sudden by a strange, but potent, _smell._ A smell that was citrus fruits, honey, and lime, in a mouth-watering combination. The more it poured into her sinuses – the more it intoxicated Hermione. She found herself not being able to think straight…

Her legs carried her subconsciously towards the _smell,_ upwards out of the dungeons and into the many corridors of Hogwarts school, Hermione walked in a dream-like trance, her eyes open but unfocussed as she followed the trail of scent that was too divine to ignore.

She reached her destination after about thirty minutes, but to her it seemed like no time at all.

* * *

Draco had just finished his run with Fleur Delacour around the Hogwarts castle that afternoon when he was heading to the Astronomy tower to his late lessons. Imagine his surprise when he finds Hermione Delacour suddenly rush towards him in a frenzy as he walks innocently down the corridor.

He expected her to charge into his person, but is completely bewildered when she suddenly stops inches away from his face. She seems to be breathing in a smell of some sort. Momentarily Draco wonders what on earth it is, _as it could be as certainly couldn't be him_. His shoes and the hem of his trousers were wet and covered in dirt from the spitting rain and the muddy grass from the outdoors. Due to Fleur's constant pressuring of getting him to match her _incredible speed,_ he was also very, very, sweaty, so sweaty that he was dripping off him from head to toe in…

_Sweat._

_What was it **"A Comprehensive Introduction to**_ _ **the Mating of Veela"** said? Something about sweat containing Veela pheromones that are designed to specifically attract their individual Mate… _ Draco smirks at his thoughts. _Apparently pheromones affect even the most "indifferent" of Mates, don't they?_

Draco suddenly felt the boldest he had ever felt in his life as he reached forward with his hands and cupped Hermione Delacour's cheeks.

His smirk turned into a genuine smile as he felt the feather-like softness of her face beneath his long fingers. His silver eyes locked onto her honey-eyes, bringing them into focus, and together they burned with passionate, ecstatic fire into each other. Draco felt there was nothing else in the world but _her._ His Mate, his beauty, his eternal love that will last as long as his dying breath. All memories of her faded from his mind at that moment, and only she as she is now, existed in his memory. It would have been frightening, if had not been so enchanting. His index finger went to her plump lips, and he smiled brighter as they reminded him on licked candy in colour. Although she wasn't wearing makeup. She was the definition of ethereal beauty in that moment in time.

He took an inch of a step back, still cupping her face, and looked at her profile. She had worn her hair in an identical French braid to the one she had adorned when he first recognised her as his Mate, and yet he couldn't recall her wearing her hair like that before or since. He was disappointed that she wasn't wearing the grey silk blouse that had previously came with the French braid, but he couldn't complain that her unperfumed gorgeous scent was still, if not dully, present in their interaction.

All in all, Draco Malfoy was in a paradise of love. Paradise in the shadows of doubt, of disbelief, and some shame, but still a paradise nonetheless.

* * *

Hermione is lost in shiny silver light. It was so bright that it should have surely blinded her but, in this moment, she could not give a damn. This silver is as beautiful to her as the sun would be to a man who had until this point been blind all his natural life. It is captivating and entrancing and nothing in the whole wide world matter except for that sweetest smell and the beauty of this silver.

Hermione never wanted to look away – she never even wanted to see anything but this silver again. Nothing on earth and even in the entire universe could compare. She wanted to touch it, to touch whoever or whatever it was in front of her. But she didn't – frightened it might disappear into a mere apparition, an illusion of her brilliant mind.

Instead, subconsciously, Hermione maintained her focus on this silver and tilted her head.

* * *

Fleur Delacour had gotten lost in the Hogwarts castle as soon as Draco Malfoy had left her outside the Grand Hall. _From its stupid moving staircases to its stupid mess of corridors how anyone ever makes it on time to their lessons at this school is beyond me!_ Fleur thought to herself as she turned around yet another corner. _This place is a hellish labyrinth. But I need to talk to Hermione – I hope she hasn't got a lesson – I need her to know that although we've had our differences, although we may not act like sisters most of time, I truly love her as much as Gabrielle and our parents. She's still my younger sister and I don't want her to despise me._

Fleur jogged down another long corridor and turned yet _another corner_ into a corridor that wasn't empty like the others. Instead she saw a familiar head of silvery blonde curls stood in front of a head of familiar white blonde hair. There a faint but distinct smell of vomit as she drew closer.

'Hermione! I am so glad I've found you! I've been wanting to talk to you ever since I arrived at this school!' Fleur began in French, as she practically skipped towards her sister.

Fleur frowned when she realised that her sister had not even stared or spoken a word or given any kind of response to her presence. She walked up to between the couple who were stood, focused only on each other, in the middle of the old, darkened, brick-covered corridor. Fleur gasped at what she saw.

_A Male Veela is at Hogwarts? And he's glowing at my sister, who is presenting her neck for him to bite! And she doesn't have a clue what's happening right now!_

'Hermione!' Fleur shrieked in her highest tone and grabbed the girl by the shoulder and swung her to face her, breaking Hermione's eye contact with Draco. Draco hissed at Fleur's " _potential threat"_ towards his Mate, which Fleur instantly understood. In response, Fleur lowered her head, nodded at him calmly, before pulling Hermione into a familial hug. Hermione's head rested for a second on Fleur's shoulder before she jumped back in response.

'Fleur? Where – where am I? What's happened? Oh Merlin, I'm in the wrong corridor which means I'm missing Astronomy!' Hermione's voice was shaking in French with shock. Fleur pulled her sister closer again; she even stroked her curls.

'Sshh, Hermione. It's alright. Go off to lessons. We'll talk soon.' Fleur said, and Hermione pulled back and scurried off in the direction of the Astronomy Tower.

Fleur then turned her attention to Draco, who smelt of vomit due to the collar of his school-shirt. 'Why didn't tell me you were a veela?'

'Ssh! _Salazar_ , do you _want_ to say that any _louder_!' Draco snapped, and he put a finger to Fleur's lips. 'Why are all girls so bloody mouthy and gossipy?' He asked mostly to himself. Fleur ignored the insulting comment and focused on the pressing issue at hands.

'I knew I 'ould smell that vile stench of ma father's potions on 'ou. 'Ou should take another dose, and double it, if 'ou are so conserned about the school knowing about you being veela.' Fleur told him, as she pushed his finger away from her.

'It's not the school I'm worried about – it's the world.' Draco mumbled as he searched his pockets for the potion bottle. He pinched his nose. Fleur's face turned sour, like she'd just eaten a whole lemon, at the smell of the potion. He swallowed it quickly and his eyes went from silver back to grey immediately.

'Why? It isn't anythin' to be ashamed of.' Fleur said, completely confused. She'd never had been embarrassed of her veela heritage.

'To you maybe, but my father would kill me if he found out – he's never known about my mother's veela ancestry.'

'That's 'orrible!' Fleur said as she reached up to cup his face. 'You should never be ashamed of what 'ou are. I'm not. But what you should be ashamed of is using your veela instincts on ma sister when she don't know 'our a veela.'

'How am I supposed to tell her, huh? "Hey Hermione, sorry for being an arsehole ignoring you and tormenting your friends for four bloody years but we're pretty much soul mates now, so could you just forget all that, pretty please with a frigging cherry on top?"' Draco drawls sarcastically, making Fleur step back.

'No need for that tone, Draco. Nor, I was thinking of 'ou using more of a 'uman approach to seduction.' Fleur suggested.

'How on earth am I supposed to do that? It may have escaped your notice Fleur, but your sister Hermione can't stand me!' Draco retorted. Fleur stared at him like seducing Hermione was the easiest thing to do in the world. _It's obvious, stupid boy!_

' 'Ou could try being nice to 'er, show her some 'indness.' Fleur offered.

Draco looked far from convinced. 'Believe me, Miss Delacour, I've been trying that already.'

Fleur severely doubted that. She was about to reply when…

'Draco! There you are, bloody hell mate I've been searching everywhere for you. I've had to sneak out to find you. Snape's gonna be furious if you're found ditching class.' A boy with an Italian accent and dark-skin said, approaching from the corridor where Hermione had left.

'Who are 'ou?' Fleur asked.

'Blaise Zabini, Signora, I'm guessing you are Fleur Delacour?'

'Oui.' Blaise kissed Fleur's hand like a gentleman.

'It's wonderful to make your acquaintance, Signorina Delacour.' He smiled brightly at her before turning to Draco. 'Since when were you to friends?' He muttered into his new best friend's ear, but Fleur chuckled under her breath as she still heard him.

'Since Fleur comforted me the other night and she found out about my _relationship_ to her sister.' Draco mumbled back, irritated.

'You can't be serious!' Blaise exclaimed too loudly. 'How are you okay with the fact that he wants to bite and bone your little sister like a sex-addict vampire?'

'Beecause I'm part veela and thus I 'derstand 'is needs in 'gards to 'our question.' Fleur replied to Blaise.

'But surely there has to be some loophole to get out of this? To prevent the tragedy if something goes wrong, am I right? Honestly Draco, with how I've seen that girl react to the mere mention of you, I think you should call the whole thing off!' Blaise said. " _Blaise" is_ _an attractive boy, but he is as dumb as a possum._

'That's not going to work. Draco's love for Hermione blinds him from any problems that may occur. I 'derstand where 'ou are comin' from Monsieur Zabini but Draco needs my sister and if it goes as I think it will, she'll need him someday. It may not be what I'd want for a sister of mine but as the English say "'ou can't always get what 'ou want'". Fleur recites and then with that turned back to Draco. 'Seduce her with what she likes and tink very 'ard 'bout it. 'Member Hermione is clever and likes her books. I'll see 'ou later.' With that Fleur waltzed away with her silvery ponytail playfully bouncing with every step she took.

* * *

Ignoring the potential repercussions of skipping their classes, Draco and Blaise headed straight to their common room after their weird chit-chat with Fleur Delacour. Draco thinking hard about what Fleur had said. He kept coming with nothing, that is until Astoria Greengrass pranced into the Slytherin Common Room.

'Ah where art thou Draco?' She sighed. Draco's eyes snapped up at her in surprise at her greeting and Astoria took their eyes meeting as an invitation to sit down beside him on the cool leather sofa.

'What did you say?'

'Where art thou Draco?'

'Yeah…where did you hear someone say that?' Draco asked with narrow eyes at the second-year student.

'I dunno, one of my nannies I've had, I guess?' Astoria said nonchalantly. Draco could tell she was confused at his reaction.

'Oh right. Yeah. I guess that I thought you might have heard someone else say it, that's all.' Draco replied and looked down at his schoolbag of books.

'Who?'

'No one in particular.' Both Draco and Blaise said at the same time. Blaise had taken a seat on the sofa opposite Draco and Astoria.

'Okay…' Astoria said, really confused now. Draco began penning a note to Blaise: _I think I have an idea about how to get a certain witch to fall for me._ He crumpled it up and threw it at Blaise's head.

'Hey!' Blaise said as she uncrumpled the note and looked at it. He conjured a quill and wrote back to his friend. He threw it twice as hard at Draco's head.

Draco just glowered at him and read what he'd put: _What are you on about?_

Draco wrote: _you know_ _the witch?_ _I know how to make her love me back. I'm gonna propose that we, as a school, perform her favourite play, Romeo and Juliet._

Blaise laughed out loud and slapped his knee at the same time: 'And you think _that's_ going to make _her_ fall head over heels for you? Wow, I don't know what to say but wow…I thought I was whipped.'

'Boys are weird.' Astoria commented as she shook her head at them, now completely perplexed at both her fellow Slytherins.

'Whipped over who?' Draco asked, forgetting Astoria Greengrass' presence in the room entirely for that minute.

Blaise swiped his nose with his index finger, a knowing smirk on his face, and it annoyed Draco that, whilst Blaise knew _every-frigging-thing about him_ , Blaise was keeping his own secrets.

Frustrated with Blaise, Draco looked at Astoria who was playing absently with her brunette hair. 'Hey, Astoria?' He put his arm around her in what he considered to be a brotherly fashion. 'How would you like to be in a play?'

Before Astoria could answer, Daphne Greengrass then walked into the room and started laughing at Draco's suggestion. 'My little sister in a play? Haha _ha,_ Astoria couldn't act to save her life. She couldn't even lie to me about my last "surprise" birthday party. She's the worst liar in the world!' Daphne laughed, and Astoria flushed as she glared at Daphne. Daphne however, took no notice, and walked towards the girls' dorms and disappeared into them.

Blaise then stood up and walked towards the exit to the Common Room.

'Where are you going?' Draco asked.

'Shower.' Blaise answered.

'I thought you'd already taken a shower this morning?'

'After our latest chit-chat...'

'Oh our "chit-chat" why Mister Zabini. I never knew you held such feelings of _amore for me,_ although I'm afraid I can't return them...'

"with "a certain witch"' Draco hissed at Blaise. Blaise smirked. 'Not _your_ _certain witch._ Another witch, Salazar Slytherin, chill out man, the point is I _need_ another shower.' Blaise told him with another wider smirk. Draco then smirked back at his friend.

'Enjoy yourself.'

'Oh, don't you worry, I will.' Blaise said, and with that, left Draco and Astoria alone. Draco sat with a rare but genuine smile (rather than smirk) on his face as he thought to himself: _I will get Hermione Delacour to know my name. She won't be able to resist me._

* * *

'I'm going to do some reading in bed, see you later, Astoria.' Draco said to the second-year witch and she smiled as she said 'bye' to him. Draco tossed the notes between himself and Blaise into the warm dwindling fireplace and went to the boys' dorms.

Astoria stared at Draco's back as he left the common room, and as soon as she'd heard the door click shut, she jumped up and caught a glimpse of what Draco had written as she pick up the only uncharred scrap of paper.

_I think I have an idea about how to get a certain witch to fall for me._

Astoria felt butterflies enter her tummy.

* * *

_**[Late Evening, Same Day]** _

Hermione has been looking all over the castle that evening for people to sign her petition to get Remus Lupin back as the Hogwarts DADA professor. In this time, she has gathered plenty of signatures but she still needed a few more to make a statement, hence she has turned to her dorm roommates.

Lisa Turpin is currently signing the petition.

'Here you go, Hermione.' She says as she passes the parchment back to her. Hermione notes Lisa's signature is one of the illegible that she's ever seen, and she's seen a lot that evening.

'Thanks, Lisa.' Hermione thanks the witch and Lisa politely smiles back to her. 'I seriously hope you get Lupin back. I'll even protest it with you to the Minister of Magic if you need me to. I hate Moody!'

'I'll sign it too – on one condition.' Viola-Jane said from her bed as she looks up from her beautiful edition of _Hogwarts: A History_. If there was one thing that Hermione loved being in Ravenclaw for, it was because she fit in so, so well here.

'What's that?' Hermione wonders.

'You'll sign my petition for Hogwarts to allow other pets into Hogwarts, I don't want a toad for god sake, who does, except S'Longbottom?' Viola-Jane explains. Hermione scowls at her for insulting Neville Longbottom: he had been her first real friend at Hogwarts, after all.

'Viola-Jane, we've told you a million times, nobody, except you, wants a bloody stupid chihuahua at Hogwarts.' Isobel MacDougal retorts.

'Jeez, can you two ever stop bickering?' Lisa says as she throws her face underneath a pillow to block out their voices. Hermione couldn't blame her – Isobel MacDougal and Viola-Jane Williams have bickered ever since Viola-Jane brought her noisy owl Hawkleen to Hogwarts in her first year.

'Elsa is NOT a "chihuahua" – she is a beautiful German Shepherd.' Viola-Jane says defensively.

'Oh that's splendid – hey Lisa, we'll get to share our dorm with a smelly, vicious, beast next year!' Isobel says.

'I'm not getting involved in this.' Lisa says as she pulls her head out from her under her pillows. She then strips her down to her underwear, shoves a yellow chemise nightgown over her head, before she shoves her knickers off and slipped off her push-up bra.

'My baby Elsa is not a vicious beast – she is a lovely ex-police rescue dog.' Viola-Jane argues, although Isobel is no longer paying her attention. Viola-Jane doesn't seem too care much though as she turns her own attention to opening a stuck lid of a tub of _Sleekeazy's Hair Potion_ that would soon be going on her freshly dyed bubble-gum pink hair.

'Okay Lisa, you don't need to get involved, but has anyone ever told you that you look fabulous in Ravenclaw blue undies?' Isobel tells the green-eyed brunette.

'Ugh, do you have to be such a lesbian, Isobel?' Lisa says with flushed cheeks. Isobel shrugs.

'She's not "such a lesbian" for saying _perverted_ crap like that, Lisa. Not all lesbians are weird, you know.' Kitty Pavlov says as she reads her huge textbook on Potions, not taking her eyes off the pages. Hermione knew that Kitty was determined to show Professor Snape that it wasn't just his Slytherins and Hermione Delacour who were the best at Potions.

'How would you know?' Asked Lisa, with curiosity in her lime green eyes.

'I don-don't. I'm just pre-presuming that one group of people aren't all the same.' Kitty stammered to Lisa, her cheeks reddening as she kept her focus on her index finger that ghosted over each word that she read internally. Hermione could tell that Kitty is trying to avoid suspicions about her sexuality. _The poor girl._

Lisa just shrugs and picks up her latest copy of _Witch Weekly_ as she snuggles herself up in her bed.

Hermione and Viola-Jane then swap petitions and hand each one back to its owner. Hermione was envious of Viola-Jane's impeccably neat signature. She wished hers was that neat. Hermione then looked at Isobel, who is stripping off her school uniform to put on a pair of short red pyjamas (not caring her roommates could see her buck naked) Hermione looked away again.

'Isobel? Where did you put that book on veelas? The one you and Kitty were reading the other night?' Hermione asked, still looking in the opposite direction to the nude witch.

'Oh, I have that Hermione!' Kitty says as she puts down her textbook for the first time that evening, and pulls the book out from under her mattress [in which Kitty keeps all her favourite things]. 'Can I lend it back again as soon as you've finished with it?' Hermione nods as she goes over and Kitty hands her the book.

Hermione takes big breathes as she sits back down on her bed and turns over to page one of **" _A Comprehensive Introduction to the Mating of Veela"._**

* * *

' _I'm not scared_  
Of your stolen power  
I see right through you any hour

_I won't soothe your pain_  
_I won't ease your strain_  
_You'll be waiting in vain_  
_I got nothing for you to gain'_

_\- Blue Foundation (From the Song: 'Eyes on Fire')_

* * *

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: And the plot just keeps on thickening! Please let me know what you think in your review!


	10. We Lay Our Scene Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which we learn of new feelings.

_**Chapter Ten – We lay Our Scene Part I** _

' _For one kiss – everything. Yes, I'd do anything..._

_anything for you.'_

_\- Oliver The Musical (From the Song: 'Anything for You')_

* * *

Hermione Delacour is wedged in between Terry Boot and Michael Corner in her Transfiguration class. It has been a few weeks since the Champions for the Triwizard tournament had begun; they were set to compete in their First task any day now. Hermione is angry at herself for _still_ not being able to get Draco Malfoy alone without his cronies; but lately he's never been without Zabini. _If those boys didn't have certain reputations, you'd think that they're in love!_ Hermione thinks.

'Miss Delacour! Are you listening? I am about to make an exciting announcement before you and your classmates leave this room. One in which I'm sure you will be interested in.' McGonagall snapped. Although McGonagall wasn't very expressive in her facial expression, Hermione knew by the older witch's slight stare that she was mad at her for daydreaming.

'Yes, Professor.' Hermione answered and focused now. A feminine tut was heard from behind her as McGonagall always seemed to "forget" to take house points from Hermione, for anything. Hermione Delacour was McGonagall's favourite pupil after all and it's a well-known fact to everyone that the older witch, who gave Hermione the title of "Brightest Witch of Her Age", is disappointed that Hermione was Sorted in Ravenclaw rather than Gryffindor.

'Good. As I was about to say, it was suggested by a fellow student who wishes to remain anonymous that the school should have a special celebration to mark not only the end of the year but also to celebrate the completion of the Triwizard tournament….' _Yeah because the only good thing that will come out of the Triwizard tournament is when it ends, and we never have to think about it again._ This particular student suggested we put on a play, for not only our school, but for Beauxbatons and St. Drumstrang students as well, to celebrate their coming to Hogwarts and show them how truly great we are. All students not taking part in the tournament may audition regardless of their year group. All years of Hogwarts students can audition, yes Miss Delacour?' McGonagall stops as she sees Hermione's hand rise.

Hermione lowers her hand as she starts speaking: 'Excuse me, Professor McGonagall, but what play would we be performing?'

'A very appropriate question, as always, Miss Delacour. Fifteen points to Ravenclaw.' McGonagall says with a kind smile directed at Hermione.

'She gives Delacour points for literally _anything._ ' Hannah Abbott mutters to Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan from the seats behind Hermione. Whilst Susan Bones said nothing, Ernie just looked at her like she was being ridiculous.

'She is the Brightest Witch of Our Age, Hannah.' Ernie objects in Hermione's defensive. Hermione smiles at him kindly which causes Ernie to turn pink.

'To answer your question: the play we shall be performing at the end of the year is William Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet._ I sincerely hope you will audition for the main role Miss Delacour. Professor Burbage will be around in Muggle Studies should anyone have anymore questions. Now please, go to your next classes before you're late!' McGonagall dismissed them and Hermione had never felt more excited. McGonagall also handed them copies of Shakespeare's play on their way out of the classroom.

 _The play that taught me English to be performed at Hogwarts! Oh wow, I can't wait to tell Angelica; she'll be so happy for me. Screw the Triwizard Tournament, this is my time to shine!_ Hermione thinks as she skips down the hallways.

'Woah, slow down Mione!' Terry says from behind her, he and Michael jogging to keep up. Hermione beams as she sees Theo approach her. She practically floats into Theo's warm embrace.

'Oh Theo, have you heard? It's so wonderful!' Hermione says as she tightens her arms around his tanned neck.

'Heard what, beloved?' Theo asks.

'About the play, oh I'm ever so excited! We are doing _Romeo & Juliet _at the end of the year! Oh, please Precious Theo, please, please, _please_ say you'll be my Romeo?'

'I wish to be whatever you want me to me, my dove, but I am no actor.' Theo says to her. Disappointment washes over Hermione's face.

'But Theo won't you do this? For me?' Hermione asks. Theo kisses her lips softly: it felt like warm water on Hermione's lips.

'I'll do anything you ask of me, beloved.' Theo tells her honestly. 'But right now, please forgive me, but I must get to class.' Hermione leans in to give him a more prolonged kiss.

'Thank you, Theo.' Hermione says, and Theo kisses her one more time before dashing off.

'Thank God that's over. One more minute of watching that idiot slobber all over your lovely face and I would have -' Michael couldn't finish his sentence as Terry elbowed him to shut him up.

Hermione just give a lilting, golden, laugh: 'Oh Michael. There's no need to be jealous. I still care for you.' She tells him and kisses both of Michael's cheeks. Michael grins at her and she grins back.

'Hey Hermione, hey guys.' Harry says as he walks passed.

'What do you want, Potter?' Michael demands.

'Mikey! There's no reason to be like that towards Harry!' Hermione chastises and embraces Harry. He returns her embrace by placing his head in the crook of her neck. 'Harry, sweet, sweet, Harry, do you have a class now?' Hermione asks, laying the compliments on thicker than usual, to get what she wants.

'No, why?'

'Please, pretty please, will you rehearse Romeo and Juliet with me?' Hermione almost pleads. She tries to mould her face into that of an adorable abandoned kitten.

Harry thinks for a mere second: 'Of course, Mione. Anything for you. I mean – no one wants to hang out with me anymore besides you anyway.' Hermione's eyes and lips smile up at him as she hugs him again.

'It won't always be like this Harry – after this stupid tournament – people will love you again, just like I do.'

* * *

' _Of course, Mione. Anything for you.'_

Harry Potter suddenly couldn't think of a more idiotic thing he'd ever said to Hermione. He had just accomplished his biggest fear and blurted out how he felt about his best friend. He's in the library reciting the most romantic verses in muggle history and she's completely oblivious to how its affecting him. It's everything Harry wants and everything he doesn't want all at the same time. He wants her to look at him like she looks at Theodore every day now, but he doesn't want to go right ahead and ruin everything they've ever had together.

They were fast friends from the minute he had stood up to Malfoy and defended Hermione Delacour and Terry Boot. She always made him smile and Harry would like to think that there were times when he made her smile too. Hermione and their friends were the only family Harry Potter had ever loved and known. Merlin knows, his Aunt and Uncle weren't there for him. Yet despite all of that, he was happy. With Hermione Delacour, he was the happiest person in the whole wide world.

When these feelings came to him is a bit more unclear for Harry. He supposed he realised it in second year when he saw Hermione _petrified._ He was so afraid that she'd never wake up, that he'd never see that beautiful warm light in her honey-brown doe-like eyes again. That they'd never laugh, or play, or even get in trouble with Snape again. That Hermione Delacour would be gone permanently from his life forever. Just like his parents.

Harry had cried himself to sleep at the very sight of the angel that was Hermione Delacour looking so frozen due to that Basilisk eyes. It petrified him to no end. He knew then that he adored her and would defeat that huge snake if only to save only her. The relief when she awoke and pulled him into a hug had warmed his heart and soul.

She was heaven on earth and she was perfect. Unfortunately Harry Potter knew that he was far from the only person who thought of Hermione Delacour did - every other boy in the school saw Hermione Delacour that way. Of that, Harry Potter was certain.

Like a frightened child, Harry runs away from his heart and dismisses himself to go to class after two mere hours of heartfelt alone him with Hermione Delacour. Only to return an hour later to find Hermione has doxed off by the library window.

Harry smiles at her as he walked towards her. Only when he saw the remnants of tears adorning her angelic features did he frown. _It must have been the play,_ Harry thought. He tapped her arm, but she didn't so much as stir. He repeated her name over and over, but she didn't so much as stir. He shook her arms and she didn't so much as stir. It left him with only one option as Harry had to lift her up into his arms to carry her out of the library.

The feel off her supple body and her silky-smooth curls against his forearms was almost too much for Harry. This _was_ everything in he wanted and worst of all it ended too quickly, thanks to Terry Boot.

'Hermione? O thank Merlin Harry. I've been looking everywhere for her – Harry? Aren't you going to put her down?' Terry Boot said as soon as Harry was half way towards the Ravenclaw common room. Suddenly, a small white dove makes a sound and Harry turns to see it watching the scene from outside a window. Hermione suddenly starts to stir then, and her eyes flutter open sleepily. Reluctantly, Harry set Hermione on her feet immediately, and, for a brief second, he thinks the dove gives him a look of approval. Terry takes Hermione's hand and leads her to their common room. The dove flies away.

* * *

' _I saw you fell asleep, while you were reading, pages on your face,_

_You had been weeping'_

_-Sleeperstar (From the song: 'I was wrong')_

* * *

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy this story and want to see Part II of this chapter and keep reading The Hogwarts Delacour please leave a review/comment. Thanks to all for reading and special thanks to my followers and those who have left kudos for joining the adventure of this story!  
> Happy Reading To All!  
> Fantasticlavendercrystals xx


	11. We Lay Our Scene Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which 'Romeo & Juliet' auditions take place.

****

* * *

_**Chapter Eleven – We Lay Our Scene Part II** _

' _Both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene.'_

_-William Shakespeare_

* * *

Hermione awakens on the day of the auditions with a feeling of nervousness. She has rehearsed the play with Harry, Terry, Michael, and Justin, without Theodore and Cedric. The very thought makes her upset.

Although she had been ignoring Cedric since the day he was chosen to be the so-called "Hogwarts Triwizard champion", Hermione missed her garcon so very much. It was like her group of boys was incomplete without him.

Theodore, on the other hand, had been using every opportunity offered to him to get out of rehearsal. She knew it was that because every class they shared and even the ones they didn't share, Theo still held her hand on the way to her classes, and she more than happily held his, but as soon as anyone anywhere mentioned the "auditions" he always had some studying, somewhere else to be, or Hermione's least favourite excuse, "he _had_ to work on his muggle chemistry set." The last excuse irritated Hermione so much because she knew Theo wasn't interested in muggle things of any kind, but instead expressed an interest in muggle subjects and objects to annoy his father. _It was so false,_ and Hermione couldn't get him to say why he loathed his father so much, no matter how she tried. All she ever got from Theodore was: "drop it, Mione" or "I love you, but I can't talk about that". It was very frustrating for an avid seeker of truth and knowledge, such as Hermione Delacour, and even more so that it was her first boyfriend being so _cryptic._

Besides that, Hermione was lacking some confidence within herself, after she had received a reply from Remus Lupin three weeks ago and had cried herself to sleep in the library after she had read it.

* * *

_Dear Mademoiselle Delacour,_

_Thank you for petitioning in what you believe is my best interest. However, I am happy with my current employment and suggest you not vilify your current Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher._

_I am pleased you are achieving the usual milestones of teenage development._

_-R. Lupin._

* * *

The letter had been so formal and bland and didn't sound like her favourite professor at all and it had been Hermione literally weep with frustration. _Why was Remus being like this? And why is Theodore refusing to tell me about his family?_ Hermione had thought and was still thinking about it now, on the day of the auditions.

It hurt a lot what both wizards had done to her and what made it even worse was the fact that Harry had carried her to Ravenclaw Tower _is mortifying_ when she had cried over the formal letter. Hermione Delacour hates looking so vulnerable in front of anyone, although out of everyone she is glad it was Harry rather than Theodore. Theo would have either taken her weeping too seriously and it would have been embarrassing to say her teacher's owl had affected her so much or would have laughed at her for it. Hermione instead, had thanked her lucky stars it was Harry Potter, _the boy who didn't ask too many questions,_ and was the sweetest person she had ever known. He was so sensitive to her feelings that Hermione's heart could just warm thinking about him sometimes.

Hermione stops her pedantic daydreaming and puts on her smartest robes and heads down to the grand hall which McGonagall had already allocated for the _Romeo & Juliet _auditions.

Just a few feet from the Grand Hall's entrance, Hermione spots her roommate Kitty talking to Professor McGonagall. The fact that Kitty is adorning a grey leotard with ballet-pink tights instantly causes Hermione to feel concerned as she stands still and tries to listen into their conversation.

'…I just think having some elements from Prokofiev would be a lovely addition to the play as a whole, Professor.' Kitty says, her high-pitched voice had a begging tone in it.

Hermione felt the blood run from her face. _Ballet? But I haven't done ballet in years, what if I am no good at it? Oh my, I am never EVER going to get the part of Juliet if McGonagall expects us to ballet dance! Kitty Pavlov was going to attend the Bolshoi Ballet company if she didn't attend a wizarding school! Damn it, and what about Theodore. I don't even know if he can dance! He'll never get the part!_ Hermione's thoughts race.

'I admire your enthusiasm, Kitty. But please step inside the Hall and we'll talk more after the auditions.' McGonagall replies and escorts Kitty Pavlov inside the Grand Hall.

Hermione takes deep breaths and tells herself firmly to 'relax, just relax, you won't be a very good actress, if you don't relax on stage.' Hermione, with another breath of air, steps forwards to make her way into the Grand Hall when a hand grasps her shoulder.

Hermione looked over her shoulder to see her elder sister Fleur stood there, grasping her shoulder.

'Hermione! I've been looking for you everywhere.' Fleur says in French. 'I wanted to wish you luck on your audition.' Fleur pulls Hermione into an unexpected and awkward hug which Hermione flinched at and turned an angry shade of red.

Hermione pulls back instantly from the hug, which caused a look of hurt to appear on Fleur's beautiful features. 'Errr, thanks Fleur, I guess.' Hermione says awkwardly.

Fleur sighs. 'I know we've had this sibling rivalry throughout our childhoods.' Hermione glares at her as if to say _whose fault is that?_ 'But I want that rivalry to stop now. we're not children anymore, 'Mione. And I want to know I love you, you're my little sister just as much as Gabrielle. Please understand that and that's why…'

'Fleur, I don't understand what's gotten into you -'

'…I have to ask Hermione if you've read that book on veelas that Draco Malfoy gave you?'

'But you've been acting strange ever since – wait what? What's that got to do with anything.' Hermione asks. Yes, she has started reading _**A Comprehensive Introduction to the Mating of Veela**_ but then auditions for _Romeo & Juliet _have gotten in the way. Hermione has only read up to the part that stated: " _For male Veela they can be around their mate without recognising them for years, even centuries, so long as they don't get a whiff of their mate's blood"._

'Wh-what are you trying to say, Fleur?' Hermione stutters in French.

'It's going be hard for you to take in, Hermione, but Draco Malfoy is a Veela and you are his mate.' Fleur replies slowly in French.

Hermione's face turns an even snowier white at the realisation. 'No.' She loudly whispers. _It isn't possible,_ Hermione thinks. _Malfoy hates me! He hates my friends and he hates my veela heritage. Fleur must be wrong. She must be making up stories like she used to when we were children – yes, that has to be it! There's no way Malfoy of all people could be a veela. Thus, there is absolutely no way in hell or Hogwarts that I, of all witches, could be his mate. That's just stupid – I mean. Malfoy's never even tasted my blood –_ 'oh. No, no, no, no. That can't be right. It. Can't. _Be.'_ Hermione says with a gasp as her mind went back to that day, in third year, in the library, when she had fell and _Malfoy had licked my wounds…but no that couldn't have meant he had tasted my blood – why that's just…just…disgusting!_

On the last thought, Hermione creases over in laughter as she thought about _the absurdity_ of what Fleur had just said.

'Oh- _hoo_ , a- _ha_ , haha, ha, ha, haha, ha, _ha!_ Good one Fleur. _'_ Hermione laughs. Fleur looks at her with expression of confusion and seriousness, but Hermione Delacour just continues with her laughter.

'I'm being serious, Hermione.' Fleur insists.

'Oh- _hooo_ -hahahah. Good one, Fleur!' Hermione says and laughs even harder.

'What's all the racket out here? Fleur Delacour you're missing lessons and Hermione Delacour, if you don't come in right this second you won't have a hope to get any part of this play.' McGonagall says with a snappy tone of voice. Hermione, still laughing, walks into the Grand Hall. Leaving Fleur Delacour watching her sister go, as Fleur shakes her head disbelievingly at Hermione's disbelief.

* * *

In the Grand Hall, Draco Malfoy had been sat for over an hour awaiting for the _Romeo and Juliet_ auditions. He was sweating nervously (he could feel it on his hands) as he thought about Hermione Delacour coming with her boyfriend. He had felt slight relief as Theodore Nott sat down in front of him alone but then Hermione came in giggling with laughter. Draco observed closely as Theodore Nott looked at his girlfriend with a curious expression toward her unusually giggly person.

'What's so funny?' Theo asked Hermione.

'Nothing, Theo. Just my sister telling jokes.' Hermione replied just as Burbage started speaking.

'Auditions will now be taking place. You can either audition alone or as a pair, the choice is yours, as we'll be performing _Act 1 Scene 5_ for the auditions for the main cast. Everyone will either be Juliet, for the girls, or Romeo, for the boys, regardless of who you wish to play in the actual production. We will choose the most talented actors and actresses in the auditions for the main parts.' Professor Burbage tells the many students in the Grand Hall. 'We shall call each individual or pairs to do their audition in alphabetical order of the witches last names.' Burbage continued and then said: 'we invite Hannah Abbott to the stage.' Burbage said, and Hannah Abbott and Fred Weasley stood up together from where they had been sitting side by side. _I didn't even realise they were friends._ Draco thought and critiques their performance. Although Fred's lines were occasionally incorrect and shakily delivered and Hannah almost entirely forgot about one or two lines, the pair were soon revealed to be one of the better pairs in the auditions.

The rest of the auditions were absolutely terrible in Draco's opinion that is, up until Hermione Delacour stood up as Burbage called out her name. Draco scowled as Theodore Nott stood up with her too.

'Begin,' McGonagall commanded as Nott and Hermione stood centre-stage.

Theodore Nott began the scene: 'If I… profane with my …worthy hand –

This holy...um, er, - what gentle…erm, err, um…kiss is this?' Nott stuttered, and Draco had to smirk. _Could snotty-Notty have got it more wrong?_ He thought to himself. "Snotty-Notty" was the "nickname" Draco had bestowed Hermione Delacour's beau, Theodore Nott.

McGonagall and Burbage thought so too: 'Stop, stop, stop.' They both cried. 'That's quite enough, Mr Nott.' McGonagall said. Theodore, far from looking embarrassed, looked relieved, until he had to shoot his girlfriend an apologetic look at her glare towards him. _It seems like Hermione Delacour might become Nott's ex-girlfriend._ Draco thought with a smile.

'Miss Granger, how would you like to perform with another partner? After all it seems only fair since you rehearsed with a partner?' Professor Burbage asked. Hermione merely nodded.

'Good. Mr Malfoy, would you kindly, since you're the one which suggested this production of _Romeo & Juliet, _come on down and assist Miss Granger with her audition? I know you expressed interest in having a partnered audition but have yet to find a suitable partner.' Burbage suggested.

Draco watched with a heavy heart and yet a painted smirk as Hermione's face dropped.

'Delighted.' Draco replied. _More than delighted_ Draco added in his head. _This will show My Mate for picking Snotty-Notty over me. After all, as Shakespeare would say I'm Thee Draco Malfoy._ Draco added with a smirk.

He was more than pleased that Fleur Delacour's suggestion of doubling his potion which had rendered his veela senses completely numb. As this fact allowed Draco Malfoy to concentrate far better on the scene: Although the whiteness of Hermione's face and her scowling expression pained his heart.

'Begin.' McGonagall ordered. Hermione immediately turns away from Malfoy to begin the scene as she instructed to do so. Draco, a second later, takes her hand in his and gently pulls her around to face him. Although Draco still slightly instinctively desired to pull his Mate flush against him, he found it more than easy to brush off the instinctive as if it were any other, and was able to leave Hermione at arms length. Draco kept holding her hand in his, even as Hermione's hand tried to escape, he didn't budge as he took a breath before starting to speak:

*'"If I profane my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready to stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.'"

He had spoken it accurately to perfection. Draco's voice was a soft purr and at the same time it held a very boyish nature to it: the same boyish nature as his face. _For all Romeo is a womanizer, he is still a teenager._ Draco reasoned. Hermione's eyes seemed to widen at his words, although they were already dilating. Draco wondered if that was due to his acting or his pheromones from his nervous sweating and found himself hoping more so that it was due to the former. Hermione's eyes then flickered around as if she looked pleasantly surprised from his flirtation. Draco then pressed his lips to her hand which he had held out for such a touch. It lasted a mere second, but he had to resist the urge to smirk and break his characterisation as he observed her shiver.

Hermione quickly collected herself again.

'"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this,

For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.'"

She had spoken it almost as well as he. Hermione's voice had produced a flirty-ness to it that Draco was utterly surprised to find she had in her. It was cheeky and casual, and her face showed an acted flattery and a pretty smile. Even though he knew deep down that it must have been a credit to her wonderful acting abilities, he found himself all to affected by it as his eyes travelled down to her rosy "blushing pilgrims".

Draco continued in his role as Romeo.

'"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"'

Draco had asked the line as an innocent question but with a hint of innuendo in his smile at his _Juliet._ He did his best to not reveal his displeasure as Hermione showed no reaction to his line as she continued on with her own. He decided to lean in to almost kiss her and half his mind would have broken out of character and kissed her regardless of script, if she had not jerked her head away at lightning speed.

'"Ay"… "pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer".'

Hermione's line was for the first time a little bit hesitant. Draco could tell that she was uncomfortable from their _almost kiss._

' "O, then, let lips do what hands do:

They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."'

Draco's line was half-perfect. He still retained a flirtatious element to his voice and to his smile, but there was an overtone of frustration and determination at Hermione's lack of positive response to his _almost kiss._

'"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake."'

Hermione read her line as a retort, and Draco wasn't sure on how to feel about it.

'"Then move not, while my prayers effect I take."'

As soon as Draco stops speaking, Hermione instinctively pushed her hands out, almost as if to push him away, but instead she pushed them onto her lips, before swooping her head forward to kiss her hands which were pressing her lips: a short imitation kiss. She soon released her lips from her hands and her hands from his face. It made Draco's heart sink that she only imitated a kiss in her ambition for a role. Draco tugged a little on her arm to bring her forward.

' "Then have my lips the sin that they have took."'

Hermione had said her line a little too quickly for anyone's taste, but it did not matter much as she soon had spoken it, Draco was moving on to his lines as he jerked her a little closer to his person as he spoke his next lines:

' "Sin from my lips? O, trespass sweetly urged!

Give me my sin again."'

Draco says and before she can do her imitation-kiss trick again, he pulls her flush against his body and plunges his lips onto hers. At first the kiss was meant to be bruising; a punishment for her seemingly negative or uncaring feelings towards his flirtatious acting and her reactions towards him in gentle.

But half a second after he tasted his sweetest sin, her blushing red lips, his own lips became as soft as a lover's lips should be. He stroked her lovely lips softly but with a fierce passion all at once and he smiled into the kiss as her own mouth not only softened, but her lips began to respond to his. He could smell the faint scent of her hair which was comparable only to sweet-tasting wild strawberries. He could smell her exotic perfume which reminded him of mangos and apricots. He could also feel her feathery soft skin underneath her rather thin robes as he held her in his loving arms. Their lips were only pressed together, but his heart was quickening to an amazing degree and his blood was burning like fire at her sensitive touch.

Too soon and too suddenly, Hermione shoved him away. His hurt eyes looked into her angered ones. Draco also noticed the soft murmurs and mutters that had been occurring from the other students in the Grand Hall had silenced and he felt the many eyes of his peers upon him.

'… "You kiss by th' book."' Hermione quoted, and Draco knew she wasn't acting any longer. Her eyes held anger¸ but her breathless voice and her heaving breasts underneath her robes showed that she was as deeply affected by their very first kiss just as much as he was.

* * *

_'You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.'_

_-Margaret Mitchell_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what is your thoughts on Draco and Hermione's very first kiss in 'The Hogwarts Delacour'? Do you like it, love it, dislike it, or hate it? Please let me know your thoughts in the comments. Although I am the writer, it is your written encouragement that makes me work a hundred times harder to get these chapters online. I love everyone who has reviewed this story so far, thank you so much, and at the minute I am in a position that allows me to personally reply to anyone (who has an account and who allows PMs) who leaves a positive or constructive review.   
> Thank you to all my commenters and those who have left kudos on this story so far!  
> * - You may have noticed this star at the beginning of the Shakespeare's 'Romeo & Juliet' quotes and that was placed there so I can indicate to you here that all quotes are directly taken from RSC's 'The Complete Works of William Shakespeare'. I don't own RSC's work, and I have quoted it, not only for non-profit, entertainment purposes, but also for educational purposes too. The page I used is '1695' in my edition.


	12. The Luckiest Slytherin

_**Chapter Twelve – The Luckiest Slytherin** _

' _Don't deny to him that you love me.'_

_-William Shakespeare_

* * *

The words 'You kiss by th' book' had fallen from Hermione's lips before she could even really think of them. She knew her lines off by heart and yet her heart was speaking for itself; it seem to beat at an inhuman speed as she was left breathless by the kiss. Unconsciously her hand went to her heart, which was difficult, as she was still locked in Draco's arms. _Why is the room so hot? Why is he starting to smell so sweet again? Oh Merlin, I recognise that smell – am I going to lose my mind and memories again?_

 _You know why,_ a sinister-sounding voice says in Hermione Delacour's head, _he's a veela and you are his mate – you be for you to be so affected by it so._ Then another more pleasant voice retorts _or it could just be that he was a good kisser? Just because he can kiss you well doesn't mean you're in love._

The sincerity in her words and her breathless tone of voice makes Hermione blush bright scarlet as she glances around the room. This glance reveals how much her fellow students have also noticed that sincerity.

_This is all so wrong!_

Hermione instantly jerks out of Malfoy's arms.

The only thing worse than seeing a good portion of the school, her friends, and her boyfriend witness her being affected by the "staged" kiss is the look of the leading man – The veela who is smirking like he had won a hard battle and the same veela whose eyes are glowing like molten silver.

Hermione instinctively steps back as the crowd of students, as well as Professors McGonagall and Burbage, thunder in applause after a brief and curious silence.

Draco Malfoy gives Hermione one last grin before dramatically giving their audience a prolonged bow. Hermione stand in shock as her thoughts raced through her mind: _I cannot BELIEVE I did that I kissed Malfoy and I lik – no, get a hold of yourself Hermione, you cannot think like this, you simply can't – and right now, he, the swine, is taking all your limelight._

With those thoughts inside Hermione Delacour's head, she takes a small curtesy and blows a kiss to the audience, in the same way all those actresses she'd seen in professional performances do. This causes the applause to grow louder and louder. The students and teachers loved it. Hermione doesn't know how to feel about this. Should she be happy she did a good job of _Romeo & Juliet, _even if it wasn't entirely based on her acting abilities? Or should she just be furious at Draco Malfoy for using her favourite play to take advantage of her lips? Hermione isn't sure.

Then the doors to The Great Hall slam _**shut!**_

A single pronoun pops into Hermione's head.

_Theo._

'A most excellent performance from Mr Draco Malfoy and Miss Hermione Delacour!' Enthuses McGonagall, clapping her hands with a cheery smile upon her face.

Hermione is no longer listening as she immediately walks to go off the stage. Malfoy follows her and offered her his hand so she could get off the stage, but Hermione ignored him as she hopped off the stage all by herself. _It is this git's fault if Theo is upset._

Hermione raced out of The Great Hall and went in search for her boyfriend.

_I just hope he's not gone to the Slytherin common room, as I can't get in there!_

The Great Hall doors opened and closed again very quietly (so much so that Hermione barely heard them open at all), and Hermione turns to see Justin-Finch-Fletchley exit the hall.

'Mione, if you're looking for Theo, he's probably going to The Black Lake while you were rehearsing with Harry, I saw him going down to practice using his chemistry set.' Justin tells her. Hermione smiles at him.

'Thank you, Justin.' Hermione says. She is now headed for the Black Lake.

The first thing she notices as she goes down the hill towards the Lake is a stench. It smells a little bit like ingredients going into potions, but Hermione knows there is a difference, this stench was more acidic than most potions. Hermione figured that _the smell must be from Theo's chemistry set._

Sure enough, Hermione finds the stench is precisely that as she sees Theodore Nott working hard with a small muggle chemistry set by The Black Lake.

'Theo!' Hermione calls as she runs to meet him.

'Go away, Hermione. I am too busy to talk.' Theodore replies dismissively as Hermione met him by the Black Lake.

'Theo, what's wrong? You rushed out of The Great Hall and left me?' Hermione asked, even though she dreaded she already knows the answer.

Theodore sighed. 'I think you know why, Hermione. I saw you kiss Malfoy.' He wasn't looking at her too interested in pouring Merlin-knows-what into his chemistry tubes.

'But Theo that was just for the audition -'

'But it looked like a lot more than that, Hermione.' Theo says. 'I have seen the way he looks at you, and I know you went searching for him before and I don't know why and a part of me doesn't even want to know why. Maybe I am being too sensitive and maybe I am overreacting but seeing him kiss you, seeing you kiss him and look like you enjoyed it more than you have ever enjoyed our kisses breaks my heart.' Theo tells her with a saddened expression; there were tears in Theodore's chocolate-coloured eyes and it caused Hermione's own heart to ache.

 _Can I tell him? Will Theo understand anything about this stupid male veela thing? Or will it be the end of us. Do I want it to be the end of "us"? Do my wants even come into the situation?_ Hermione thinks to herself as she struggles to produce a response appropriate for the situation.

'It breaks my heart because I think I love you, Hermione.' Theo says – Hermione's heart skips a beat. She tries to interject him but he carries on speaking, as if he is racing to get his words out because he has limited time to do so.

'And I have never really loved anyone in my whole life, not even my own mother really, but I love you, Hermione. For all our time together in our short relationship I have been the happiest I have ever been. You, with all your smarts, your kindness, and your unbelievable beauty, just make me feel whole. You make me feel like I am a better person than I am. You make me feel like I am worth something – that I am somebody, as before you I was just that Slytherin who was lucky enough to hang out with you; that's pretty much all everybody ever said about me. But now I am called "the luckiest Slytherin", the luckiest guy in Hogwarts for being able to hold you and love you. And I don't ever want to lose you, Mione. But I am dreading the fact that I am about you, as you seem to want a guy that could never _**ever**_ deserve you.' Theo finishes.

Hermione looks shocked and feels as if time itself is frozen as Theo's eyes lock onto her and she sees the astonishing truthfulness in his words.

_That's it. I have no choice but to tell him – Theo deserves to know._

'Theo, I don't want Malfoy, as I know he doesn't deserve me. But…what happened back there isn't about being deserved or about love, or about my feelings.' Hermione tells him. Theodore stares at her with a perplexed expression. 'It is about veelas…' Theodore's eyes grow wide: Hermione shakes her head. 'It's not what you think – this has nothing to with _my_ veela ancestry – but rather _his.'_

'But-but, how?' Theo demands suddenly, utterly shocked by Hermione's explanation. 'The Malfoy's don't have any veela blood.'

'I didn't think so either, but I don't know the ins and out of it right now, but I plan to find out everything before I have to make any decisions. Theo, I hate to say it, and to be truthful I don't know how to say it, but-but Draco Malfoy – is a-a a male veela and I-I think that I'm his _mate.'_ Hermione burst into tears at the thought – _it's so impossible but after those feelings, those out of nowhere feelings that spark an almost supernatural passion, how can I deny it?_

And as Hermione sobs at the unfairness and impossible-ness of it all, Theodore Nott does something most unexpected thing to Hermione, as he pulls her into a caring embrace and slides his arms around her shoulders.

'Hermione – I don't know what to say, really, but I know we can get through this. We have to – I mean you can't just go with a complete prick just because his veela heritage might've _chose you_ – you've got to have more a choice in that. It's your right, a witches right, a human right to have a choice in the matter. I promise you, my turtledove, we'll figure this out together. I'm not giving you up if you still want me. We'll figure this out and no matter what you'll have the right to choose your own path in life. I won't rest until this is resolved and it's a distant memory in your head, my love, I promise you that.' Theo tells her and it only makes Hermione cry more as she shifts her body to bury her blonde head in the crook of his neck. She inhales his earthy, comforting, scent. _It's so unlike the intoxicating smell of Malfoy._ Hermione thinks as she feels the soft palms of Theodore's strong hands stroke her back. It soothes her.

'Hermione, I hate to ask you this, but I have to ask as I knew her for a long-time (and there have been rumours), but…but did …Malfoy…did Malfoy kill Pansy Parkinson?'

Hermione looks up at her boyfriend.

'He-he did, and it's all my fault! She wasn't his Mate – but I-I a-am and he killed her because he couldn't have me!' Hermione's cries grow even louder at her despairing thoughts.

Theodore shakes his head. 'We don't know that for certain yet. Either way it is certainly not your fault – it can't be. You're too good of a person for that, Hermione. No matter what, I'll be here for you.' He pulls her closer again.

* * *

Draco Lucius Malfoy seriously wished that he hadn't chose to hide behind that tree as he burst into hot tears himself as he witnessed his Mate be comforted and caressed by another man: the pain, as always, was unbearable.

 _I need to take more potion._ Draco thought to himself.

'Draco, 'ou foolish boy, why do I 'ave to remind 'ou?' Fleur said from behind him. As if reading his mind, she hands him a potion. 'I pinched some out of 'our pocket 'cause I know you would forget.' She told him. Draco snatched the potion out of Fleur's hands and downed it instantly.

_Relief._

'Thank you.' Draco said in one breath as the pain started to dull down a bit.

Fleur sighed. 'You need to always 'emember, Draco.' Fleur chastised him. Draco watched as Fleur looked over to where her younger sister was sat on the grass with _Snotty-Notty_.

' 'E's right, 'ou know, ma sister deserves the choice of who to be with.' Fleur told Draco carefully. Draco shuddered as he realised that Fleur _is right._

 _'_ I will still get her to know my name.' Draco muttered under his breath with determination.

* * *

The next day there is a cast listing up outside The Great Hall…

_**Romeo & Juliet Cast Listings Year 1994/1995** _

_Directed by Professors Minevra McGonagall and Charity Burbage_

Romeo – Draco Malfoy (4th year, Slytherin)

Juliet – Hermione Delacour (4th year, Ravenclaw)

Paris – Neville Longbottom (4th year, Gryffindor)

Mercutio – Blaise Zabini (4th year, Slytherin)

Lady Montague – Luna Lovegood (3rd year, Ravenclaw)

Lord Montague – Ronald Weasley (4th year, Gryffindor)

Lady Capulet – Katerina Pavlov (4th year, Ravenclaw)

Lord Capulet – Wayne Hopkins (4th year, Hufflepuff)

Juliet's Nurse – Cho Chang (5th year, Ravenclaw)

Tybalt – Justin Finch-Fletchley (4th year, Hufflepuff)

Benvolio – Terry Boot (4th year, Ravenclaw)

Friar Lawrence – Fred Weasley (5th year, Gryffindor)

Friar John – George Weasley (5th year, Gryffindor)

Prince Escalus – Theodore Nott (4th year, Slytherin)

Anthony – Michael Corner (4th year, Ravenclaw)

First Guard – Kevin Whitby (1st year, Hufflepuff)

Second Guard – Rosaline Clearwater (3rd year, Slytherin).

Third Guard - Colin Creevey (3rd year, Gryffindor)

First Musician – Avgustin Warbeck (2nd year, Ravenclaw)

Second Musician – Leon Gallagher (3rd year, Ravenclaw)

Pot Man – Seamus Finnigan (4th year, Gryffindor)

Balthasar – Ginny Weasley (3th year, Gryffindor)

Sampson – James Samson (2nd year, Hufflepuff)

Gregory – Ernie Macmillan (4th year, Hufflepuff)

Peter – Oliver Rivers (4th year, Ravenclaw)

Servant to Capulet – Mabeus Selwyn (2nd year, Slytherin)

Abram – Brahms Moon (3rd year, Ravenclaw)

The Apothecary – Valentin De Lacombe (2nd year, Slytherin)

The Chorus – [a narrator role played by a single actor] Astoria Greengrass (2nd year, Slytherin)

Additional singer – Bertena Jackson (1st year, Ravenclaw)

* * *

Theodore Nott took one long look at the cast listings and then took a longer look at Hermione Delacour's prideful smile but anxious eyes, and Theo found himself wishing he had made more of an effort to prepare for the auditions, as in that moment, he wasn't feeling like "The Luckiest Slytherin" anymore.

* * *

' _This could be the end of everything, so why don't we go? Somewhere only we know.'_

_-Keane (From the Song: 'Somewhere Only We Know.')_

_**Author's Notes:** _

**_Could the knowledge of Draco Malfoy being a male veela really be the end of everything for Theo and Hermione? Let me know what you would like to happen for them and for Draco in the reviews!_ **

_**Happy Reading Everyone!** _

_**Love,** _

_**Fantasticlavendercrystals xx** _


	13. The White Dove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which who the white dove is explained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just thought you guys should know that I have been doing some grammar and spelling edits to improve The Hogwarts Delacour, NOTHING plot-wise has changed EXCEPT that I have had to change the cast listing in chapter twelve where I said that Harry Potter was to play Paris in Romeo & Juliet, I realise now that wouldn't be possible because Champions aren't allowed to take part in the production so I have replaced him with Neville Longbottom.
> 
> I also need to explain that in this story events that happen in the books be not in the order that they were in cannon: the reason for this is that this story is an AU, with Hermione being raised by a different family, and I want to keep the focus on the veela storyline which means there will be changes to the original plot. However, with that in mind the events of Goblet of Fire are still taking place in the narrative and I want to give you a quick run-down of what's happened so far, since it has been awhile since I have updated. (I am very sorry that I haven't been able to update very quickly. The reason is I have had college work to deal with as well as a surprise holiday and a cold, so lots of things have slowed me down).
> 
> In this story, we've had the World Cup, and back at Hogwarts the Beauxbatons and Dumstrang students have arrived and the Triwizard Tournament Champions have been picked.
> 
> What has not happened yet is The Weighing of The Wands, Malfoy being turned into a ferret, and Harry seeing the dragons. These haven't happened yet because of what's to come in this story.
> 
> So with that said, I hope you like this chapter!

_**Chapter Fourteen – The White Dove** _

' _You know that I can disguise myself most effectively.'_

_-JK Rowling_

* * *

Hermione Delacour seeks out Harry Potter in the library. It isn't that hard to find him. After Madam Pompfrey mended her sprained ankle from rehearsals yesterday, she can move easily now and quickly search past the many bookshelves until she can see the familiar sight of messy black hair.

She smiles when she sees him studying hard when she sees him looking furiously through book after book on the library tables.

_Finally, at least someone listens to me._

'Hey, Hermione.' Harry says brightly, though his voice is muffled as he eats up some brightly coloured sweets.

'Hey Harry, what are you doing?' Hermione asks as she sits down beside him.

Harry shrugged. 'I'm trying to figure out about the first Task of the Triwizard Tournament.' Harry's face burns red as he sees Hermione's scowl at those three touchy words. It still angered her that this Tournament where people had died in the past was still going ahead. She knew that Harry understood her frustrations when it came to her garcon Cedric and her sister Fleur entering the Triwizard tournament as Harry hadn't entered the tournament for eternal glory or fame but had, somehow, been forced into it _._

 _It's just sad that everybody else acts like this is something Harry wanted for himself._ Hermione thinks to herself: ever since Harry had his name called out he lost almost everyone's trust. Even Ron Weasley, a fellow Garcon not to mention Harry's other best friend, has been ignoring him and Hermione has been trying her best not to take sides between them.

'And of course, eating the sweets Sirius sent me last night.' Harry said as he popped an orange coloured sweet that was the size of a tangerine fruit fully into his mouth like it was a gob-stopper.

Hermione flinches as she recalls how Sirius Black treat Ron when they first met and how badly he damaged her poor garcon's leg – _no, I doubt I'll ever be able to trust him completely after that –_ 'Are you sure those sweets are safe, Harry? You don't know where he got them from.'

Harry lets the huge sweet fall unattractively from his mouth before answering her. 'Sirius isn't a murderer, Hermione, and he is my godfather, I trust him. He can easily get things and move around as an Animagus.' Harry explains nonchalantly in whispers.

'I know, Harry, and I am glad you have a godfather who you care about and who at least seems to try to help you, but I think you to exercise some precaution with him too.' Hermione says. She knows Harry writes to Sirius, and at times she thinks it is a good thing sometimes, as Black does seem know more than they do about what's going on; Hermione knows that Harry and she are teenagers

Hermione hears the dreaded but increasingly familiar sound of giggles coming from behind she and Harry.

'How many boyfriends does one girl need, Millie?' An annoying voice asks. Hermione looked over her shoulder to glare at the persons of Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass, who were perched on a table across from her.

'One.' Answered Millicent Bulstrode.

'Well, The Hogwarts _Snow Queen_ here certainly has more than _one._ Isn't it weird how she parades them around the castle?' Tracey Davis remarks, much to Hermione's growing irritation. The Slytherin girls continue to stare at Hermione and Harry,

'She does. She even has a stupid nickname for them too, it's a really stupid one one as well, something only a French _half-breed_ could come up with. _Garcones_.' Daphne Greengrass joins in sneering at Hermione as she spits out such horrid prejudice. 'I can't believe the professors cast her for the play with her lack of creativity.'

Hermione stands up, but Harry stays seated and grips her hand. He gives her a look that tells her to "let it go". Hermione glowers down at him at first, but then she realises that Harry is only trying to keep her out of trouble - _how ironic!_

'She obviously has her favourites though, Daph. the little tramp always keeps Potter by her side because he's the most famous one. That Hufflepuff Mudblood who's always following her about told me that she's making a t-shirt for her newest recruit, Draco Malfoy. She's probably going over designs with Potter right now!' Millicent Bulstrode commented to Daphne Greengrass, but her nasty eyes were locked on Hermione Delacour as she spoke.

Hermione saw red. Ever since second year Hermione knew that Millicent Bulstrode had hated her; it was so gapingly obvious after the Slytherin had put her in a headlock during apractice duel – _but this is going too far._

_Think, Hermione, think. What spell can I use to make them leave me and my Garcons alone?_

She thrushes her hand away from Harry's and grabs her wand to point it at Millicent.

_I know! I'll play them at their own horrible game._

_'Rictusempra.'_ Hermione whispers at each of the Slytherin girls and each of them find themselves in a fit of uncontrollable and humiliating laughter on the library-floor as their bodies twisted in multiple and unflattering directions. Hermione quickly does the counter-course as just as the Hogwarts Librarian comes over to them.

'There is to be no foolish laughing in the library. Out!' The Hogwarts Librarian Irma Prince tells the Slytherin girls, who were so breathless that they couldn't even speak. Madam Prince goes so far as to pull the sprawled-out girls to their feet before escorting them out with the most annoyed expression on her face. As soon as they are gone, both Hermione and Harry let out sighs of relief.

'That was close. You shouldn't let gossip bother you like that, Hermione. Besides, it's obviously completely ridiculous that you'd fancy Malfoy.' Harry's says as he pops another one of Sirius Black's sweets into his mouth; Hermione's not sure why, but Harry's simple action of eating sweets causes her to have a light-bulb-moment. 'However, he seems interested in your sister Fleur though, and if I were you I'd be far more worried about that. In fact, I am worried about that _for_ you, Mione. I've noticed Malfoy following Fleur about the castle, jogging with her, and it seems she's getting closer to him the more you push her away. It's really rather sad Hermione, if my parents had lived and I was lucky enough to have a sister I would try not to fight over petty stuff-'

Hermione interrupts him, determined to say focussed on the ideas flooding through her head rather than her detestable sibling. 'Harry – you once said about Sirius being an Animagus, please, remind me how long it can take to change into an Animagus form?' Hermione double-checks, thinking more and more about Malfoy and what happened yesterday when she chased him after he suddenly left the rehearsal for Romeo and Juliet.

'It can be really quick I think, seconds, if you're super good.' Harry answers. He's clearly confused by Hermione's eagerness for the answers to that question, as it is rare for her to double-check anything.

'Oh Merlin.' Hermione gasps.

 _Is it possible that the white dove I saw when Malfoy vanish in The Great Hall could be Draco in his Animagus form? Is it possible for male veelas, or at least part veelas, to become an Animagus too? Is Malfoy even smart enough to do that?_ The thoughts spin around in Hermione's brain.

* * *

A white dove landed on the window-ledge of an empty classroom. Within ten seconds the dove was replaced by a blond-haired teenager with pointy facial features.

 _Being an Animagus is not as difficult as people make it out to be._ Draco thought to himself as he went over to the desk in which a pile of clothes had been stashed underneath. He pulled the pile of clothes out from under the desk and put them on. Draco knew that this classroom was abandoned, as shown by the dusty old tables, the broken chairs, and the lack of any kind of equipment inside, and so he had planned to use it for when he needed to land in his Animagus dove form, as he had yet to figure out how to transform and keep his clothes _on_ – the very awkward and embarrassing side effect of being taught to be an Animagus by someone who isn't one themselves.

 _Or maybe it's easy for you to be an Animagus because you're a male veela now,_ a less egoistical voice said in the back of his head. He remembered the first time his mother had taught him the skill…

They had rehearsed the theory throughout the last summer holidays and by the end of those holidays, he had found it remarkably easy to transform, feeling a slight tingly sensation as he morphed into the body of a dove, very much unlike the fear he felt when his arms became feathery. From what he'd read in the book that his mother had given him veelas were bird-like creatures, so it made a lot of sense to Draco that he could turn into a complete bird instead of just part of one very easily. Still it was a huge pain having to have that Mandrake leaf in his mouth for a month to achieve the goal, and not to mention having to spend the last few nights of his school holidays waiting for a lightning storm.

He recalled what his mother said to him about the ease of his Animagus transformation.

'Very good, Draco. I knew you would find it as easy as a slice of cake. Your great-great grandfather who was also a male part veela took on the form of a dove too. He used to it to seek out your grandmother to learn more about her interests so to seduce her properly. I whole-heartedly believe it was an effective method.' Narcissa Malfoy had told her son whilst he was still in his bird form.

When he turned back into a human, Draco was _mortified_ at the fact he had just re-appeared without clothes and had wanted to die _right then and there_ and he was so thankful that his mother had told him to transform back he behind the sofa… he realised later that she had asked that of him so that she couldn't see anything.

Nevertheless, when Draco let out a gasp of panic, Narcissa snapped her head away from view and had shut her eyes. She then pulled out her wand and casted a spell to put Draco's clothes back on his body without looking. Draco remembered thinking how talented a witch his mother was to be able to do that magic with her eyes closed and he told her so.

'Thank you. It's a spell that has saved us both from life-threatening embarrassment. I am not the greatest witch ever to teach you to be an Animagus, so there was bound to be problems along the way. However, I suggest finding at least one place in school, if not more, to find a place to keep spare clothes until you become more of an expert on Animagus transformations.' His mother told him.

'Don't don't you think it is a bit, er, wrong that I should become an unregistered Animagus to learn more about my Mate, mother, isn't that a bit deceitful?' Draco asked.

Narcissa looked her son in the eye. 'Draco, you have three years to get Hermione to accept that she is your Mate, and when it comes to a mother's son dying…morality doesn't come into it.'

Snapping out of the memory, Draco shuddered. He didn't want to think about all of that right now. He figured it was worth becoming an Animagus in the end because the speediness of his transformations made escapes from awkward situations, such as almost turning into a half-bird-half-man-creature during rehearsals a lot easier.

Draco didn't get to muse about his dove transformation much more as he walked out of the abandoned classroom and through the corridors of the Hogwarts Castle and entered the Slytherin Common Room, where he found Blaise Zabini staring at him the moment he walked through the door. Blaise was sat next to Astoria Greengrass, who was craning her neck over a book and scribbling down something.

'Blaise? What's a Disarming Charm again?' Astoria asked the wizard sat beside her. Draco realised then that she was doing her Defence Against the Dark Arts homework.

'Er – it's a charm which you used to disarm someone.' Blaise said. He sounded distracted as he glanced up towards Draco as he hunched over the book Astoria was reading.

'The Disarming Charm is used to force an opponent during a duel to release their wand or another object they are holding. The word the charm is " _Expelliarmus".'_ Draco told Astoria. The second-year looked up and smiled brightly at him, though the light from the marble fireplace showed that her eyes were a bit puffy.

'Thanks Draco. And thank you too, Blaise. I would never have got this done without you. Moody confuses me so much in class and he really creeps me out. I don't know what to make of him.' Astoria said.

'No problem.' Both Draco and Blaise replied, before Blaise went on to say. 'Can you excuse me for just a minute, kid? I need to speak to Draco.' Astoria nodded as she wrote down what the two boys had told her. Blaise stood up from the table and walked across to Draco, who was at the other side of the Common Room.

'Helping second-years, Blaise? You're getting soft, aren't you?' Draco said quietly with a mischievous grin to wind Blaise up.

'She came to me crying about how she'd fail her homework if I didn't help, alright.' Blaise said dismissively, before looking Draco dead in the eye: 'are you crazy, Draco?' Blaise whispered. 'You storm out of the rehearsal, flying away as a dove. A dove that Hermione Delacour has seen and told all of her friends about after the rehearsal by the way, and she was _"_ whispering" so loudly that even I could hear her? If don't want people to know something is up about you then you don't go about doing stuff like that, Draco!' An expression of anger and concern washed over his face over Blaise's face.

'It's better for her to have seen a white dove fly away than a man with wings from arms flying off in the presence of loads of other potential students. Besides, I think being an Animagus is far easier than becoming a full veela with wings.' Draco rationalises as he whispers back, despite the fact that he has never fully grown veela-wings yet.

Blaise just sighed. 'You have to learn to restrain yourself, mate.' Blaise's voice had slipped out of being hushed and was at a normal volume; he was clearly getting more frustrated with his friend.

The door to the Slytherin Common room opened and closed with a noisy slam as Blaise spoke.

'Couldn't have said it better myself, Blaise.' Daphne Greengrass said as she walked in and sat down on the sofa nearest to where the two boys were standing. 'Your sappiness towards your unrequited love is _touching_ , but it completely clouds your acting skills – I mean Hermione Delacour's acting is worse than yours, but you could so much better if you just had more chemistry with the lead.'

Draco felt his fists clench and his stomach tighten as Daphne insulted his mate.

'You're treading on some very thin ice here, Daphne.' Blaise growled at her.

'What's your problem, Daphne?' Asked Astoria Greengrass who slammed her quill down on the table. She had been so silent whilst they had been talking that Draco had forgotten Astoria was there. But it seemed impossible to ignore the second-year's presence now that she glared so furiously at her older sister with such anger.

'Nothing, _Tori_ , you just be a good little girl and finish your sorry excuse for an essay.' Daphne said to Astoria.

Draco watched Astoria's face burn a bright red as she glowered at her older sister.

'You're just jealous of her aren't you, _Daph?_ You're the one who's been spreading rumours around the castle about Draco fancying her. I knew that something was up when you started talking to Millicent Bull or whatever her name is. I couldn't believe you wrote in your diary that you think "she's dumb and fat and ugly" and yet you were suddenly friends with her so you could spread lies about Draco! You're jealous that Hermione Delacour got a leading role while you're just the understudy!You're just jealous because she got what you wanted and now you're punishing Draco for it.' Astoria shouted so loudly that any students sleeping in the dorms at that moment would have been awakened by her voice.

Daphne Greengrass' face was a mixture of fury and disbelief. 'So, you're not as thick as Mother always says you are then, Astoria. Yeah, okay, so I might have said a few things to some people about Draco and the Snow Queen, but so has everyone else. I thought that maybe she would drop out if the gossip threatened her relationship with Nott. I worked hard for that role and just because _they_ had the shock-value of being an unlikely casting they got the bloody role that I needed to impress Mother and show her that I am not the stupid, under-achieving moron she thinks I am!' Daphne shouted back. She seemed so unhinged whilst she was speaking but then, to everyone's surprise, Daphne Greengrass then started to sob pitifully and fled up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

'I'm so sorry Draco. I'll write to Mother about how wicked Daphne has been to you.' Astoria said apologetically.

'That might not be the best plan.' Blaise Zabini said as he pulled an envelope addressed to Draco. He looked at Draco with trepidation. 'Snape told me to give you this since he couldn't find you himself.'

Draco took the envelope from Blaise and his heart sank to the bottom of his chest when he saw the crest on it. He opened the letter with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

_Draco,_

_I have received a frightful word from one of your house-mates about a scandal which involves you having a romantic attraction to one of the Delacour daughters._

_I realise my visit to Gabriel Delacour last summer must have confused you terribly about the sort of people you are supposed to be mixing with._

_I apologise for this confusion, Draco, but I can assure you that, whilst it is true that I have to mingle with all kinds of people because of the importance of my work,_

_That does not mean that these half-breeds are suitable companions or courtships for the heir of the Malfoy line._

_Make no mistake that the Delacour daughters are half-breeds Draco; their grandmother was full Veela and Veelas aren't human, no matter how beautiful they are, and to put it simply they cannot be trusted._

_This gossip of you having romantic feelings for albeit a Pureblood witch of Veela heritage, whilst slightly better than one of lesser blood, is nonetheless still nothing short of humiliation and scandal in the most important circles these days, and I will not stand for it!_

_The future Lady Malfoy_ _MUST BE_ _a full human pureblood witch of good standing._

_No exceptions._

_Do what you must to squander these lies, or your punishments will be as severe as necessary for the time it takes for this talk to vanish._

_Do your duty, Draco._

_Sincerely, your Father,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

Draco's eyes had widened to a large degree at his father's hand-written words and for the first time it wasn't his own veela-hertiage that was making him feel physically sick. He felt himself tremble at what this could mean for him, _and not only that but for my Mate too,_ a small voice in his head reminded him. It just made him feel words as he scumbled up the disdainful and demanding letter in his hand.

'Daphne Greengrass will pay for what's she's done!' Draco snarled.

* * *

He needed to walk. Well, actually, Draco would have preferred to fly again, at least then he'd be away from all people and left to think things through on his own if he became a dove, but after his father's letter it wasn't possible. He couldn't risk it. It was not worth his father finding out that he was a veela too and destroying his life. He went up to his dorm and put on a warm cloak and went out walking along the outer edges of the castles and dodging the prefects and professors as he did so.

Surprisingly, he managed to have a long walk that evening without being bothered by Filch or the Professors, for breaking the rules. The walk allowed him to think. He knew he had a lot of decisions to make. Draco knew one thing for certain – he did not want to die. And in order for him to definitely survive he needed Hermione Delacour and bite her to seal her as his Mate. However, in order to do that Draco needed to make her love him, at least enough to let him live, but even that was hard to accomplish when she insisted on referring to him as "Malfoy" and nothing else. It wasn't like the rational part of him didn't understand her somewhat, after all he knew what he was offering her wasn't what most people would call "real love".

_But then again, what's "real love" anyway? You can't control love as it's an emotion that just comes out of nowhere, even to regular witches and wizards. One day people just think to themselves that they person the boy they have been dating because of all the fuzzy feelings that have been building up inside them, right? Some couples my age aren't even together two days before they are declaring they in love. Well this weird veela love is just like that, isn't it? Except it happens a lot faster and you wind up with someone you never ever should have fallen in love with and somehow veela magic should make it all happily ever after?_

It may not have been the best rationalisation in the world, and it was one that was filled with bitterness in Draco's mind, but it still provided comfort that maybe this wasn't as messed-up as it seemed. But then his mind went into the uncharted territory of actually thinking about this "happily ever after".

He pictured Hermione walking down the aisle with her greying-haired father a few years from now. Draco smiling to her as they met to take their vows, only to turn to see his father standing up with a menacing face and aiming his wand at the bride…

 _No more._ He stopped his thought right there. It would be comical, if a part of Draco didn't see that the scearnio could possibly happen.

_I've got to forget about the Mate thing for now, at least until the gossip goes away and father doesn't believe it anymore. I know if Hermione decides to be my Mate then I my father will find out, but I would rather prolong the time it takes for him to realise the truth. I don't want him stopping me before I even have the chance to survive…_

He looked up into the night sky, as if it had the answers feeling lost as what to do next.

_If only there was a way that I could get back at Daphne Greengrass and convince my father that these rumours aren't true at the same time._

The autumn breeze chilled his face and left only the condensation of his breath and the sound of crickets for company, and he kept walking, that is until she came along.

One-minute Draco was walking by the Broom Shed and looking around aimlessly until his eye fell on the roof of the shed and then the next minute a beetle had caught his eye. What was weirder still, it was like the beetle was trying to catch his eye too. Creeped out by this idea passing through his head, Draco walks a few feet away, before an older witch with crispy blonde and curly hair appeared in front of him.

'What is a young school boy like you doing out here at this time? Are you lost?' The older witch asked, her eyes shimmering with an emotion Draco couldn't quite make out underneath her jewelled spectacles. Her tone of voice had a gossipy quality to it, and at this point, Draco had more than enough of gossip.

'Er, yeah, I guess I am lost.' Draco said the answer he thought was least likely to get into trouble. 'But what are _you_ doing out wandering about the Hogwarts Castle?' He knew she couldn't be a professor.

The woman smiled. 'Sharp boy, aren't you? I like that. I am Rita Skeeter. I work for _The Daily Prophet_ and I am looking for the next big story.' Her smile grew wider. 'Lots and lots of things have been happening at Hogwarts this year, haven't they? The infamous Triwizard Tournament taking place again, The Boy Who Lived getting chosen for it, not to mention the rumours about male Veela being responsible for the death of a student. Tell me, you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?' The older witch eyes were glimmering in the dark.

Draco's heart skipped a bit. He had to be careful not to show that he had stopped breathing when she had mentioned "male Veela".

_The VERY last thing I need is a journalist confirming that my life is ruined and I am a monster to my father._

'As if I don't have better things to do than to gossip about _Potter.'_ Draco sneered, doing his best to divert the attention away from the subject of veelas. The older witch's smile just continued to grow and grow and Draco began to wonder if it would eventually work its way up to her pencilled-on eyebrows.

'You're not friends then?' Rita Skeeter asked him.

Draco had to snort. 'No. He thinks he's so special and so much better than anybody else.' Draco then had an idea. 'But then again all the boys that are a part of Hermione Delacour's little group are like that.'

'Harry Potter hangs around with just one girl?' Rita Skeeter looked like Christmas had come early at the idea. Draco went to answer her but she put her index finger up at him. 'One moment dear, you don't mind if I use a Quick Quotes Quill, do you?'

He shook his head.

'Lovely.' Said Rita as she pulled a muggle legal pad out of her crocodile-skin handbag. Draco couldn't help but wince at _the very idea_ of a witch using a _muggle notepad._ A quill then lifted up in the air and Rita said again. 'Interview with, who are you again, dear?'

'Um, Draco, but I wish to remain anonymous. By the way, if you're Animagus then how can you keep your clothes on?'

Rita looked appalled as her pencilled on eyebrows narrowed and she lips became thin. 'I don't think that's an appropriate question for a boy of your age, Draco. Let's keep the focus on you; you were going to tell about Potter and this Delacour girl?'

Draco smirked. 'I am not sure I see the appeal with her to tell you the truth, with all those guys around, even Potter struggles to get her attention. Most guys at the school _adore_ Hermione Delacour because she's part-veela.'

'Do you adore her in the same way the other boys do?'

'No. People think I was do as I was persuaded by the professors to audition with her in a play of _Romeo and Juliet,_ but no she's a bit too much of a, er, _package_ deal for me with all her boys around her. Plus, there's nasty girl called Daphne Greengrass who told everyone I fancied Miss Delacour simply because she thought that if she could create a rumour then Delacour would drop out of the play and she could take her place. Greengrass was obsessed with me really.' Draco said. Rita Skeeter looked thoughtful and then muttered something quietly to her quill.

'I see. Well, that's a bit more that I have on Potter now, thank you Draco.' Rita Seeker said and Draco made a move to walk past her. 'Wait!' Rita called. Draco stopped. 'You wouldn't know any information about the rumour that a male veela is at –'

'No.' Draco said quickly.

'I see…well, this isn't a lot to go on for _The Prophet,_ but I am sure the people at _Witch Weekly_ would be interested in this little piece of juicy gossip.' Rita's voice became high-pitched and _annoyingly girly_ with excitement. 'I'll be sure to stay in touch, Draco. Have a nice walk.' Rita said.

As she said the words, Draco wasn't sure he wanted to walk anymore, and he didn't know for certain that talking to the journalist was a good way of getting rid of the rumours.

* * *

 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: I hope you liked this chapter, and if you didn't for any reason then please leave some constructive criticism to tell me how I can improve. I would love to read your feedback, especially if you have any thoughts about how I portrayed Rita Skeeter because I have never written a character like her before.
> 
> I will hopefully be posting the next chapter very soon as I had to cut this one short because it was getting too monstrously long to be a single chapter.
> 
> In the meantime,
> 
> Happy Reading!
> 
> Love,
> 
> Fantasticlavendercrystals xx


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